KIND   WORDS. 


THE  following  are  extracts  from  testimonials  and  notices  of 
Mr.  Drown,  and  his  poems,  on  the  appearance  of  his  first 
volume  in  1860:  — 

"  His  position  appeals  to  the  sympathy  of  every  generous 
heart.  Let  those  who  would  learn  how  a  cheerful  trust  can  be 
manifested  under  severest  trials, — how  purest  aspirations  can 
arise  out  of  intense  suffering,  how  Christian  faith  can  penetrate 
its  clear  vision  into  the  eternal  world, — read  this  book.''  —  A'. 
C.  W.,  in  Boston  Transcript. 

"  The  peoms  have  been  written  in  darkness  and  gloom  ;  but 
they  are  spiritually  bright,  and  abound  with  beauties  that  the 
eye  alone  cannot  see."  —  Saturday  Evening  Gazette. 

"  The  pictures  of  life  which  were  enjoyed  and  deeply  im 
printed  in  earlier  years  have  given  vivacity  to  the  effusions  of  his 
imagination  in  his  hours  of  retirement,  while  looking  only 
on  the  half-closed  volume  of  nature."  —  Exeter  News-Letter. 

"  Although  these  poems  were  written  under  most  depressing 
circumstances,  we  find  in  them  no  repining  or  misanthropic 
spirit ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  they  breathe  forth  an  elasticity, 
buoyancy,  and  cheerfulness  of  spirit,  which  it  would  seem  im 
possible  to  be  inspired,  save  by  the  enjoyment  of  a  far  larger 
share  of  life's  blessings  than  falls  to  the  lot  of  this  young 
man."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

i 


2  KIND    WORDS. 

"  The  poems  themselves  abound  in  sentiment,  pathos,  faith, 
and  hope.  The  book  should  have  a  large  sale  among  the  sons 
of  Portsmouth  for  its  author's  sake."  —  Portsmouth  Chronicle. 

"  For  years  the  author  has  been  suffering  in  darkness  and 
hopelessness  of  cure  from  a  painful  disease  of  the  optic  nerves ; 
but  he  sings  like  the  nightingale,  with  a  sweeter  pensiveness 
after  the  red-hot  iron  has  passed  through  its  eyes.  His  poems,  as 
might  be  expected,  are  all  in  the  minor  key  ;  evincing  a  heart  not 
hardened  by  his  trial,  and  a  taste  and  fancy  vivacious  and  elastic 
under  his  burden." —  Christian  Register. 

"  We  hope  that,  among  the  gifts  of  the  season,  this  book  will 
be  purchased  with  a  liberal  hand  ;  thus  not  only  conferring  a 
good  gift  on  a  friend,  but  also  a  needed  boon  to  a  talented  and 
unfortunate  young  man,  who  has  formed  this  rich  bouquet  of 
flowers,  which,  in  his  own  words,  '  have  silently  bloomed  in  the 
valley  of  shadow.'  "  — Portsmouth  Journal. 

"  In  his  dreary  confinement  the  muses  have  inspired  him  to 
utter  songs  whose  sweet  echoes  invite  the  sympathizing  without 
to  listen  and  to  remember  the  gifted  author  in  his  deep  need."  — 
Congregational  Journal. 

"  The  volume  possesses  much  merit,  and  it  is  hoped  will, 
through  a  generous  public,  prove  a  relief  to  the  author's  present 
embarrassment,  and  cheer  in  some  measure  whatever  period 
of  darkness  may  remain  to  him."  —  Concord  Statesman. 

"  Made  '  perfect  through  suffering,'  his  quiet  life  has  sent  forth 
a  pure  and  elevating  influence,  which  has  been  felt  especially  by 
those  who  have  been  personally  acquainted  with  him,  and 
greatly  by  the  many  who  have  known  him  only  through  the 
'  Fragrant  Flowers '  which  he  has  strown  for  the  public  eye." 
—  Portsmouth  Journal. 


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IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


POEMS: 


BY 
DANIEL    AUGUSTUS    DROWN. 


"  Yet  I  argue  not 

Against  Heaven's  hand  or  will,  nor  bate  a  jot 
Of  heart  or  hope  ;  but  still  bear  up,  and  steer 
Right  onward." 


PORTSMOUTH,    N.H.  : 
PRINTED     FOR     THE     AUTHOR. 


BOSTON  : 

PRINTED  BY  KAND,  AVEKY,  &  CO., 
NO.  3,  COKNHIM.. 


TO 

THE    SONS    OF    PORTSMOUTH, 

MY    BRETHREN, 

£  Dedicate  ing  -Booh ; 

FEELING   THAT, 

THOUGH    MY    EYES    NO    MORE   MAY   SEE  THEM,    NOR   MY 
HAND    CLASP   THEIRS    IN    FRIENDLY    EMI5RACF, 

STILL 

WE    MAY    MEET    IN    SPIRIT, 

AND   ENJOY   SWEET   COMMUNION   THROUGH   THE 
MEDIUM    OF    SONG. 


1  God  sets  some  souls  in  shade,  alone  ; 
They  have  no  daylight  of  their  own  : 
Only  in  lives  of  happier  ones 
They  see  the  shine  of  distant  suns. 

1  God  knows.     Content  thee  with  thy  night 
The  greater  heaven  hath  grander  light. 
To-day  is  close.     The  hours  are  small  : 
Thou  sit'st  afar,  and  hast  them  all. 

'  Lose  the  less  joy  that  doth  but  blind  ; 
Reach  forth  a  larger  bliss  to  find. 
To  day  is  brief:  the  inclusive  spheres 
Rain  raptures  of  a  thousand  years." 


TESTIMONIALS. 


From  Rev.  A.  P.  Peabody,  D.D. 

CAMBRIDGE,  Jan.  27,  1873. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  DROWN,  —  I  am  glad  to  learn  that  you  are 
going  to  publish  a  new  volume  of  poems.  Please  consider  me 
as  a  subscriber,  and  make  any  use  you  can  of  my  name  in  ad 
vancing  the  circulation  of  the  book.  I  say  this,  not  only  because 
I  sympathize  so  deeply  with  your  sufferings,  and  so  much  ad 
mire  the  Christian  submission,  fortitude,  and  true  heroism  with 
which  you  have  borne  them,  but  because  your  poetry  is  pure, 
sweet,  and  lofty,  indicating  a  high  order  of  ability,  delicate  taste, 
rich  imagination,  and  a  fine  command  of  language  and  rhythm. 

A.  P.  PEABODY. 


From  Hon.  Mellen  Chamberlain. 

CHELSEA,  Feb.  6,  1873. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  SHILLABER,  —  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  Mr. 
Drown  is  about  publishing  a  new  volume  of  poems.  We  were 
college-mates,  and  of  the  class  of  '44.  Belonging  to  his  divis 
ion,  I  had  daily  opportunity  of  observing  him,  and  was  early 

7 


8  TESTIMONIALS. 

impressed  with  a  sense  of  his  superior  scholarship  and  general 
culture.  No  one  could  have  been  more  correct  in  deportment, 
or  gentle  towards  all  who  approached  him.  Although  he  has 
been  long  withdrawn  from  the  world,  I  have  reason  to  know 
that  his  classmates  still  remember  him  with  affection,  and  hear 
with  admiration  of  the  patience  with  which  he  bears  his  singular 
and  long-protracted  sufferings.  Nor  can  we  fail  to  be  interested 
in  the  volume  which  is  shortly  to  appear. 

Very  truly  yours, 

MELLEN  CHAMBERLAIN. 


The  undersigned,  college  classmates  of  Mr.  D.  A.  Drown, 
cheerfully  bear  testimony  to  his  conscientious  scholarship  and 
amiable  character  while  we  were  nearly  associated  with  him, 
and  cordially  join  in  the  wish  that  the  contemplated  collection 
of  his  poems  —  the  fruits  of  his  maturer  culture,  and  the  solace 
of  his  long  years  of  sickness  and  trial  —  may  meet  with  a 
reception  from  the  public  worthy  alike  of  their  own  merits  and 
of  his  blameless  life  and  patient  fortitude. 

CHARLES  H.   BELL. 

AMBROSF.  A.  RANNEY. 

EDWARD  S.  CUTTER. 

HORATIO  G.  PARKER. 

HARVEY  JEWELL. 

J.  H.  BRADLEY. 

JOHN  H.  GEORGE. 


FRIENDLY   INTRODUCTION. 


IT  was  the  privilege  of  the  undersigned,  twelve  years  ago,  to 
write  a  preface  introducing  a  book  by  Mr.  Daniel  A.  Drown, 
and  to  call  attention  to  certain  facts  relating  to  its  author.  That 
privilege  is  again  exercised  in  a  like  office,  —  a  call  being  made 
for  a  second  volume,  —  and  he  again  recounts  the  sorrows  of  his 
friend,  asking  the  attention  of  a  sympathizing  public.  Mr. 
Drown  graduated  at  Dartmouth  College  in  1844,  in  a  class  com 
posed  of  some  of  the  most  distinguished  scholars  in  the  country, 
who  have  made  their  names  famous,  among  whom  he  held  a 
respectable  position.  As  described  by  one  of  his  class-mates,  — 
William  C.  Todd,  Esq.,  —  "  he  was  one  of  the  most  correct  and 
exemplary  students  in  college,  passing  through  his  whole  course 
without  a  stain  of  reproach."  Graduating  thus  with  honor,  and 
selecting  the  calling  of  teacher,  he  prepared  to  enter  upon  his 
life-work  :  but,  just  as  his  arrangements  were  completed,  he  was 
seized  with  a  disease  of  the  optic  nerve  ;  and  all  his  plans  were 
frustrated.  For  five  years  he  sought  relief  from  tlie  eminent  ocu 
lists  of  our  own  land,  but  without  avail.  Then  he  was  compell 
ed  to  take  to  a  darkened  room  ;  and  for  twenty-four  years  he  has 
been  shut  from  the  light,  from  social  companionship,  from  com 
munion  with  nature,  from  all  that  makes  life  enjoyable.  A  sad  and 
terrible  case  this  ;  and  yet,  amid  it  all,  he  has  found  the  heart  to 
sing  his  songs,  from  a  remembrance  of  nature,  —  with  which  he 
was  once  in  sweet  accord,  — and  a  love  of  the  true  and  the  good, 
which  darkness  and  confinement  could  not  destroy.  A  strong 

9 


10  FRIENDLY  INTRODUCTION. 

and  clear  faith  in  God  has  ever  sustained  him.  Calamity  has 
never  shaken  it ;  and,  like  old  Eli,  he  says,  "  It  is  the  Lord  :  let 
him  do  what  seemeth  him  good."  He  has  found  many  kind 
Iriends  who  have  ministered  to  him  ;  but  he  shrinks  from  depend 
ence  :  and  by  his  book  he  hopes  to  win  a  return  that  shall  place 
him  beyond  the  contingency  of  want.  The  undersigned,  therefore, 
begs  the  author's  friends  to  patronize  his  book,  from  their  pros 
perity  and  healthfulness,  and  give  him  the  assurance,  in  his 
darkness,  that  they  have  not  ceased  to  feel  for  him.  He  has 
dedicated  his  book  to  "  THE  SONS  OF  PORTSMOUTH  ;  "  and  it  is 
to  be  hoped  that  the  Sons  and  the  Daughters  may  respond  to 
this  affectionate  tribute  to  his  youthful  friends  and  companions, 
and  by  their  generosity  relieve  his  mind  from  its  dread  of  be 
coming  entirely  a  burden.  The  poems  are  replete  with  good 
ness  and  beauty,  simple  and  unaffected,  and  find  their  way  to 
the  heart  through  the  best  channels  :  therefore  they  are  worthy 
of  regard,  and  may  be  read  and  treasured  up  with  benefit  to  the 
possessors,  —  not  "  Sons  of  Portsmouth"  alone,  but  to  all  who 
have  sympathetic  hearts  to  feel  for  the  poet,  and  taste  to  appre 
ciate  his  rhymes. 

B.  P.  SHILLABER. 


AUTHOR'S   PREFACE. 


WHEN  the  author  issued  his  first  volume,  twelve  years  since, 
he  scarcely  deemed  that  he  should  so  long  have  remained  to 
bear  the  physical  ills  he  suffered,  and  the  concomitant  evil  of 
poverty  ;  but,  for  a  wise  purpose,  undoubtedly,  the  good  God 
has  retained  him,  the  most  unfortunate  of  his  children,  while  he 
has  removed  thousands  whose  lives  were  precious  in  usefulness, 
about  whom  affection  clung  tenaciously  but  vainly.  His  purposes 
none  can  see  ;  but,  with  faith  in  the  assurance  that  he  doeth  all 
things  well,  the  heart  strengthens,  and  the  burden  of  life  is 
easier  borne.  The  author  comes  before  his  friends,  and  appeals 
to  their  sympathy  and  kindness  from  the  depths  of  his  long 
affliction,  — added  to  by  the  flight  of  years,  —  and  begs  a  passing 
thought  which  will  penetrate  to  his  retirement,  and  give  his 
heart  new  hope.  With  many  of  these  friends  he  began  life,  and 
passed  hand  in  hand  with  them  over  youth's  domain.  Sep 
arated  since  from  most  of  them,  he  has  never  forgotten  those 
pleasant  beginnings,  and  the  glorious  promise  that  then  beck 
oned  them  on.  Even  in  his  darkness,  those  faces  and  those  inci 
dents  return  that  made  life  then  pleasant,  tingeing  his  gloomy 
cell  like  the  sunbeam  that  cheered  the  prison  of  Cervantes.  He 
wishes  them  to  buy  his  work,  and  thus  show  that  the  feeling  he 
entertains  is  reciprocated.  He  needs  their  sympathy,  but  does 
not  ask  it  as  a  beggar's  alms  ;  trusting  to  receive  it  as  a  tribute 
of  love  and  a  token  of  remembrance,  that  shall  bless  the  giver 
as  well  as  aid  the  receiver. 

The  author  desires  to  express  his  gratitude  to  those  kind 

ii 


12  AUTHOR'S  PREFACE. 

friends,  who,  on  the  previous  and  present  occasions,  have  done 
so  much  to  promote  his  interest  and  alleviate  his  sorrows  ;  who 
have  constantly  studied  his  benefit,  aiding  him  with  their  own 
means,  and,  through  their  representations,  inciting  others  — 
many  entire  strangers  —  to  help  him.  From  his  "heart  of 
heart "  he  invokes  for  them  the  blessing  promised  those 
who  seek  to  aid  the  unfortunate,  whose  feelings  are  attuned 
to  the  call  of  pity ;  praying  that  the  good  they  do  and  have 
done  him  may  return  to  them  a  thousand-fold.  Though  there 
is,  of  course,  a  precedence  in  claims  upon  his  gratitude,  he 
dare  not  be  more  specific,  lest  he  do  injustice  to  many  friends 
whose  offices  have  been  later  bestowed,  but  were  none  the  less 
beneficent  and  welcome.  Therefore  he  thanks  them  all  in  the 
sincerest  manner,  resting  in  the  assurance  of  their  continued 
regard. 

DANIEL  A.  DROWN. 


CONTENTS. 


The  Return  of  the  Sons  ..... 
"  Pax  Vobiscum  "    . 

Dew  on  the  Grass 

Not  Lost,  nor  Dead         ..... 

Fragrant  Flowers 

My  Summer  Morning  Serenade 

An  Echo 

In  Memoriam  ....... 

"  We  all  do  fade  as  a  Leaf"    .... 

Musings  in  May       ...... 

The  Willows    ....... 

Angel  Voices  ....... 

Musings  on  the  Close  of  the  Year  . 

The  Rose  without  a  Thorn      .... 

May  Morning  ....... 

Friendship        ....... 

A  Grateful  Response  to  the  Portsmouth  Cornet 

Contentment,  or  the  Blest  Jewel 

Peace,  be  still  ...... 

Beautiful  is  Moonlight 

"  Lot  there  be  Light"       ..... 

The  Basket  of  Strawberries     .... 

Sleep        ........ 

In  the  Valley 


Band 


PACK. 

20 

22 
24 
26 
28 
3° 
32 

34 
37 
39 
4i 
44 
46 
48 

5° 
52 
54 
56 
59 
61 

63 
65 
67 

69 


14  CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

Memory  and  Hope 71 

May-Flowers  .........  73 

Light  in  Darkness   ........  75 

One  Little  Word 77 

My  Welcome  Serenade 79 

Autumn  Leaves       ........  81 

Bring  Flowers 83 

Jesus,  my  Hope       ........  85 

Falling  Snow 87 

The  Better  Land 89 

That  Gentle  Voice 92 

A  Trifling  Gift 94 

The  March  of  the  Frost  King 96 

On  Receiving  a  Framed  Bouquet  of  Autumn  Leaves      .  98 

Winter  is  Coming    ........  loo 

To  Annette  on  her  Birthday 103 

Then  let  me  hear  of  Heaven  ......  105 

Snow-Flakes 107 

No,  never  give  up    ........  109 

The  Twin  Spirits 1 1 1 

Autumn  Winds 114 

May 116 

On  Receiving  my  First  Bouquet       .         .         .         .         .  118 

The  Clover-Blossom        .         .         .         .         .         .        .  120 

Friendship's  Offering       .         .         .         .         .         .         .  122 

Spring  is  coming      ........  12^ 

My  June  Rose          ........  127 

Night  before  Day 129 

October    ..........  130 

A  Ministering  Spirit         .......  132 

On  a  Dewdrop         ........  134 

The  Breath  of  June          .......  136 

Moonlight  Evenings        .......  138 

The  Springing  Grass        .        .         .        .         .         .         .  140 

Oh,  speak  to  me  kindly    .......  142 

Come  to  the  Woods         .         .         .         .        .         .         .  14; 

The  Morning  Shower      .......  146 


CONTENTS.  15 

PAGE. 

"  I  pity  You  ! " 149 

The  Last  Good-by 150 

Summer  Winds 152 

Faded  Leaves 154 

The  Brief  Answer   .         .         .         .         .         .         •         .  156 

On  a  Lily 158 

Happy  Moments 161 

The  Spirit's  Whisper 163 

Nature's  Pages 165 

Lines 168 

Bubbling  Echoes      ........  169 

The  Old  Elm 172 

Sunshine  and  Shadow 175 

Sympathy         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .  178 

The  Shining  Light 180 

The  Death  of  the  Righteous 182 

On  a  White  Rose 184 

One  Kind  Word 186 

On  a  Sleeping  Child 188 

"  As  Rain  upon  the  Mown  Grass  "          ....  190 

Autumn  ..........  191 

"I  wish  I  were  a  Bird  "           ......  193 

The  Morning  cometh       .         .         .         .         .         .         .  195 

The  Summer  Rain  ........  198 

Consoling  Promise 200 

Parting  with  Christian  Friends        .....  203 

Confidence  in  God  ........  205 

Still  hope  for  the  Best 207 

I  am  weary  of  Staying     .......  209 

"Thy  Word,  O  God !  is  pure "                .         .         .         .  210 

To"  Birdie  "D 212 

Afflictions 214 

Hymn       ..........  216 

A  Spring  Morning  ........  218 

I  long  to  go  Home  ........  220 

Christian  Pilgrim's  Expectation      .....  222 

Be  steadfast 224 


1 6  CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

The  Voice  of  the  Shepherd     ......  225 

The  Soul's  Anchor 227 

The  Land  of  the  Blest    .......  230 

Violets 233 

To  a  Friend  on  her  Birthday  .         .         .         .         .         .  235 

The  Secret  Wish     .         .         .        .         .         .         .         .  237 

Morning  Joy     .........  240 

The  Rose  by  the  Wayside       ......  242 

A  Morning  Walk 244 

Time's  Changes       ........  247 

The  Little  Favorite          .......  250 

Yes,  then  I'll  think  of  You 253 

A  Silent  Token        .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .  25, 

To  Garophelia 257 

Another  Year          ........  259 

Nearer  Home 261 

Let  me  rest 263 


IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY-BANK. 


IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


THE   RETURN    OF   THE   SONS. 

WHAT  sounds  are  those  that  by  my  ear 

Come  rushing  up  the  glen  ? 
Sweet  music,  rising  high  and  clear, 

And  tramp  of  marching  men  : 
The  festive  gun  and  bell  outpour 

A  wealth  of  joyous  tone, 
That  girts  the  woods  of  Sagamore 

With  echoes  like  a  zone. 

What  is  it,  neighbor  ?     You  can  see,  — 

Your  eyes  dread  not  the  light : 
Come  show  the  mystery  to  me, 

Reflected  in  your  sight. 
Speak  quickly,  pray  !     O  laggard  !  tell 

Why  all  this  loud  acclaim 
Of  joyous  bell,  with  garrulous  knell,  — 

Of  gun  with  throat  of  flame  ? 

19 


20  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

"  It  is  our  country's  natal  day  ; 

But  more  than  common  joy 
Greeteth  the  morning's  golden  ray, 

Inspiring  man  and  boy  : 
For  from  afar  the  '  SONS  '  return,  — 

In  serried  ranks  they  move  ; 
And  in  all  hearts  the  glad  fires  burn 

Of  welcome  and  of  love. 

"  From  every  steeple  '  welcome  '  rings  ; 

The  morning  sky  is  dim 
With  smoke  suspent  on  airy  wings, 

Like  an  unuttered  hymn  ; 
The  nation's  flag  in  blessing  floats 

O  O 

From  every  staff  and  tower  ; 
And  cheering  from  a  thousand  throats 
Makes  jubilant  the  hour. 

"  I  see  the  '  Sons  '  from  Puddle  Dock, 

And  those  from  Christian  Shore  ; 
There  Brimstone  Hill's  proud  offspring  flock  ; 

Rock  Pasture  comes  once  more  ; 
From  Point  of  Graves  to  Portsmouth  Plains 

Their  '  Sons  '  in  gladness  shout, 
And  not  one  nook  of  all  remains 

A  delegate  without." 

Neighbor,  my  heart  is  ill  at  ease  ; 

Oh  !  would  the  heavenly  powers 
Permit  me  to  return  like  these, 

And  revel  in  these  hours  ! 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  SONS.  2 

But  exile  I,  of  saddest  mould, 

Can  never  more  return 
Where  life  and  joyousness  unfold, 

And  social  altars  burn. 

God  bless  the  "  Sons  "  !  —  my  brothers  —  all 

Though  I  may  never  clasp 
The  hands  of  those  I  once  could  call, 

And  feel  their  friendly  grasp, 
My  heart  here  re-affirms  the  tie 

That  early  boyhood  formed  ; 
Though  dull  the  pulse  and  dimmed  the  eye, 

'Tis  with  affection  warmed. 

But  I  will  not  in  gloom  despond  : 

A  gathering  awaits 
In  the  not  very  far  beyond, 

Within  the  pearly  gates. 
There  shall  we  all  united  throng, 

Where  higher  bliss  shall  sway, 
And  light  and  peace  and  joy  and  song 

Crown  everlasting  clay. 


22  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


"PAX   VOBISCUM." 

As  sweet  music  in  a  valley 

Floats  through  shady  aisles  along, 
Where  the  tinkling  riplets'  murmur 

Only  joins  the  wavy  song ; 
So,  amid  my  own  deep  silence, 

Floated  near,  one  stilly  night, 
Silvery  strains,  whose  pleasant  echoes 

Filled  my  heart  with  cheering  light. 

Clear  the  voice,  and  pure  the  accents, 

Which  surprised  my  patient  ear, 
Ever  listening,  'mid  the  stillness, 

Some  good  angel's  wings  to  hear  ; 
And  they  stirred  within  my  bosom 

Thoughts  of  loved  ones  far  away, 
Who  might  send,  with  heavenly  blessing, 

Shining  words  to  light  my  day. 

When  the  heart  is  pained  and  weary, 

Sad  in  its  own  solitude, 
Is  it  not  to  memories  sweetest 

By  some  soothing  accents  wooed  ? 


"PAX  VOBISCUM."  23 

Then  the  faintest  loving  echo 

Which  the  soul  has  ever  heard 
Vibrates,  with  a  lengthened  cadence, 

In  each  kindly-spoken  word. 

In  the  silent  midnight  hours, 

When  I  watch,  all  still  and  lone, 
I  would  claim  this  grand  benison  — 
PEACE  BE  WITH  YOU  !  —  for  my  own  ; 
As  if  'twere  by  angels  spoken, 

I  would  feel  its  sacred  power,  — 
Welcome,  as  to  withering  grasses 

Comes  the  cool,  refreshing  shower. 

When  life's  storm  shall  gather  fierceness, 

And  its  clouds  shall  grow  more  dark  ; 
When  the  foam-capped  billows  threaten 

To  ingulf  my  trembling  bark,  — 
Then,  amid  the  angry  waters, 

When  my  strength  is  wholly  vain, 
May  strong  faith  "  beyond  the  river  " 

See  the  smiles  of  "  Love  "  again  ! 

May  tha.t  blessed  peace  sustain  me 

In  the  darkest,  saddest  hour 
Which  a  Father's  love  bestoweth 

When  the  clouds  of  sorrow  lower ! 
Let  my  heart,  still  loving,  trusting, 

Safe  repose  in  his  own  will  ; 
Knowing,  in  each  fiery  trial, 

That  his  love  regards  me  still. 


24  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


DEW   ON   THE   GRASS. 

How  beautiful  at  morning  light, 

When  summer  winds  are  sighing, 
To  view  the  sparkling  dewdrops  bright 

Upon  the  green  turf  lying, 
With  myriad  rainbows  circling  round 

These  crystal  forms,  reposing 
So  humbly  near  the  thirsty  ground, 

As  night's  moist  wings  are  closing. 

So  pure  and  fresh  the  gorgeous  scene, 

They  seem  a  diamond  sea, 
With  isles  of  amethyst  between, 

And  emerald  shores  to  lea  ; 
O'er  whose  bright  waters  blue-birds  skim, 

As  o'er  a  crystal  cup, 
To  sweetly  pour  their  morning  hymn, 

And  pick  the  jewels  up. 

As  silently  as  dews  distil, 

For  nature  kindly  given, 
So  may  thy  grace  my  bosom  fill 

With  choicest  gifts  from  heaven  ; 


DEW  ON  THE   GRASS.  25 

E'en  though  I  lie  recumbent,  far 

Down  in  a  suffering  vale, 
Let  my  dark  night  know  one  bright  star, 

Nor  let  my  courage  fail. 

Within  this  valley  let  me  feel 

The  clews  which  round  me  fall, 
Which  o'er  my  life  so  silent  steal 

In  blessings  large  and  small  ; 
Let  me  behold  in  sorrow's  night 

The  jewels  which  descend, 
Which  yet  shall  sparkle  in  the  light 

When  life's  short  day  shall  end. 


26  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


NOT   LOST,  NOR   DEAD. 


"  To  live  in  hearts  we  leave  behind, 
Is  not  to  die.' '  —  Campbell. 


SWEET  thought !  that  in  some  loving  hearts 

Our  names  may  be  enshrined, 
When  cypress  o'er  our  lowly  forms 

In  sorrow  may  be  twined, 
Which  silent  speaks  of  absent  ones, 

Whose  voices,  hushed  and  still, 
No  more  respond  in  gentle  tones, 

Which  used  the  heart  to  thrill. 

Safe  in  the  chambers  of  the  soul 

Most  cherished  thoughts  will  dwell, 
Abiding  as  the  worth  of  those 

We  loved  so  long  and  well  ; 
While  Hope  lights  up  the  mourner's  path 

With  its  enlivening  ray, 
Which,  like  a  morning-star,  precedes 

The  glorious  beams  of  day. 

Not  lost,  nor  dead  ;  for  mem'ry  writes, 
Upon  a  tablet  pure, 


NOT  LOST,  NOR  DEAD.  27 

Those  virtues  which  shall  never  fade,  — 

Whose  fragrance  shall  endure  ; 
While  Love,  with  her  kind  mantle,  hides 

The  errors  of  the  past, 
And  gilds  with  light  each  generous  deed, 

Whose  lustre  e'er  shall  last. 

The  sorrowing  tears  which  grief  distils 

For  loved  ones  none  can  see, 
Are  sacred  gems  Affection  brings 

From  her  rich  treasury. 
Like  summer  dews  on  starlit  nights, 

Which  feed  the  drooping  flower, 
They  gently  soothe  the  troubled  heart 

With  their  subduing  power. 

But  whether  tears  in  silence  fall, 

—  Affection's  fitting  boon, — 
Or  smiles  be  seen  because  the  goal 

Of  bliss  is  reached  so  soon, 
'Tis  not  to  die,  while  yet  we  live 

In  hearts  sincere  and  true, 
.Who,  longing,  view  the  pearly  gate 

To  heaven  we  entered  through. 


28  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


FRAGRANT   FLOWERS. 

LOVELY  flowers,  ever  beauteous, 

I  would  prize  thy  forms  so  fair, 
Breathing  out  delicious  odors 

Freely  to  the  morning  air, 
With  a  thousand  rainbows  bending 

Round  thy  blushing  petals  bright, 
Sparkling  like  the  liquid  diamonds 

In  the  rosy  morning's  light. 

So  may  I,  e'er  looking  upward 

To  the  starlit  throne  above, 
Yield  an  offering,  like  sweet  incense, 

Of  true  praises  warmed  with  love. 
May  most  gracious  blessings  ever 

On  my  heart  like  dews  distil  ! 
Then,  more  grateful,  pure,  and  holy, 

Be  my  choice  my  Father's  will. 

Fragile  flowers,  with  fringed  eyelids, 
Catch  the  sunbeams  from  the  skies, 

As  bright  favors  which  the  morning 
Joys  to  send  when  evening  dies  ; 


FRAGRANT  FLOWERS.  29 

Shooting  out  its  golden  arrows, 
As  mid  sunny  clouds  they  play, 

Scattering  with  its  rosy  fingers 
Fragrant  treasures  in  their  way. 

So  may  I,  most  willing,  ever 

Seize  the  truth,  like  sunbeams  bright, 
Shining  through  the  darkened  curtain, 

Which  hideth  heaven  from  my  sight. 
May  I  drink  delicious  nectar 

Dripping  from  an  angel's  wing, 
With  a  heart  prepared  to  welcome 

All  the  good  his  hands  would  bring  ! 

Flowers  may  stay,  and  beauty  linger, 

But  a  little  season^here, 
Where  are  seen  the  clouds  of  sorrow 

And  the  sad,  desponding  tear  ; 
But  beyond  this  world  of  trouble, 

Destined  never  for  the  tomb, 
Pleasures  yielding  blissful  incense 

Shall  for  us  forever  bloom. 


30  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


MY   SUMMER   MORNING   SERENADE. 

(3  O'CLOCK,  A.M.) 

WAKEFUL  through  the  midnight  hours, 

And  at  early  dawn, 
Wait  I  for  the  swelling  chorus, 

Floating  o'er  the  lawn. 
Stately  elms  adorn  my  dwelling, 

Woodlands  flourish  near : 
Whence  proceeds  the  charming  music 

Which  delights  my  ear  ? 

Ne'er  before  did  I  so  welcome 

Such  a  choral  throng  : 
Fragrant  forests  now  seem  flooded 

With  their  liquid  song. 
Bobolinks  and  robins  carol 

Such  delicious  notes, 
That  a  chime  of  sweetest  music 

O'er  the  meadows  floats. 

When  the  shining  car  of  morning 

Rises  from  the  sea, 
Then  a  thousand  extra  voices 

Swell  the  jubilee  ; 


SUMMER  MORNING  SERENADE.  31 

And  their  rapturous  hearts  seem  breaking 

With  ecstatic  bliss  : 
Who  would  not  rejoice  to  welcome 

Serenade  like  this  ? 

God  be  praised  for  birds  and  flowers, 

Innocent  and  pure  ! 
Melody  and  fragrance  blending 

Must  for  aye  endure  ; 
Stirring  up  within  our  bosoms 

Wells  of  gratitude, 
Whose  sweet  waters  murmur,  praising 

God,  the  ever  good. 


32  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


AN    ECHO. 

A  SWEET  little  word  in  my  heart  I  must  cherish, 

Euphonious  and  pleasant  its  tone  ; 
And  though  many  names  from  my  memory  may  perish, 

Not  so  can  it  be  with  thine  own, 

Not  so  can  it  be  with  thine  own. 

It  tells  me  of  friendship  and  constant  devotion, 
Which  I  love  in  my  heart  to  enthrone, 

So  that,  in  its  purest  and  deepest  emotion, 
Each  wish  may  respond  to  thine  own, 
Each  wish  may  respond  to  thine  own. 

It  tells  me  of  kindness  and  generous  endeavor, 

All  fragrant  as  hay  newly  mown  ; 
Of  sympathy  truest  and  purest,  which  ever 

Possesses  a  charm  all  thine  own, 

Possesses  a  charm  all  thine  own. 

A  silvery  music  thy  name  breathes,  —  as  tender 

As  a  flute  in  the  eve  softly  blown  ; 
So  melodiously  sweet  that  no  artist  can  render 

An  echo  so  truly  thine  own, 

An  echo  so  truly  thine  own. 


AN  ECHO.  33 

Affection  and  friendship  and  goodness  seem  blending 

To  utter  thy  soul's  purest  tone, 
So  clear  and  so  liquid,  an  angel  seems  lending 

His  harp  as  a  mate  to  thine  own, 

His  harp  as  a  mate  to  thine  own. 

No  name  so  deliciously  pleasant  can  ever 
By  me  through  life's  journey  be  known, 

Oh !  then  let  no  coldness  or  dark  shadows  sever 
Sunny  memories  linked  with  thine  own, 
Sunny  memories  linked  with  thine  own. 


34  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


IN   MEMORIAM. 

HARRY  HUBBARD  KENNARD,  DIED  MAY  g,   1870,  AGED  13  YEARS. 

How  oft  across  life's  sunny  skies 
Some  cloud  of  sorrow  quickly  flies, 
Which  casts  a  shadow  o'er  the  heart ; 
While  dews  of  grief  their  chill  impart ! 
How  oft  within  a  home  some  flower 
Unfolds  rare  beauties  hour  by  hour ; 
When,  like  the  passing  of  a  breath, 
Its  petals  fall  in  silent  death  ! 

•  And  late,  when  brightest  promise  shone 
About  a  dear  and  tender  one, 
And  loving  hearts  and  loving  arms 
Held  him  secure  from  earthly  harms, 
The  gathering  cloud  unheeded  grew, 
Till  hope's  bright  sun  was  hid  from  view ; 
And,  from  home's  shelter  where  he  lay, 
The  angels  beckoned  him  away. 

He  pined  with  pain  ;  but  not  a  word 
Of  murmur  e'er  his  young  lips  stirred  : 


IN  MEMO  R I  AM.  35 

Though  fever  might  his  bright  eyes  dim, 
Its  fierceness  could  not  conquer  him. 
And  so  he  smiled  in  hopeful  cheer, 
His  courage  grand,  his  love  more  dear  ; 
And,  through  the  blessing  that  he  shed, 
A  glory  crowned  his  dying-bed. 

At  morning,  when  sweet  violets  smiled, 
Passed  on  from  earth  the  patient  child  ; 
And  in  the  realm  of  joy  and  peace 
His  gentle  spirit  found  release,  — 
Release  from  pain,  release  from  care, 
In  God's  eternal  love  to  share  ; 
Whose  ways  no  human  tongue  can  tell, 
But  who  e'er  doeth  all  things  well. 

But  not  in  terror  nor  in  gloom 

Came  he,  the  king  of  sable  plume ; 

No  bitter  grief,  no  cold  despair, 

Fell  on  the  hearts  that  gathered  there. 

God's  glory  rested  on  the  place, 

And  filled  each  soul  with  trust  and  grace, 

That  saw,  through  faith,  the  blessing  strewn 

Along  the  path  the  child  had  flown. 

Sweet  sympathy,  in  floral  guise,* 
Gave  death  the  glow  of  paradise, 


*  The  sympathy  of  loving  friends,  at  the  obsequies  of  dear  Harry,  found 
expression  in  floral  tributes  of  the  most  exquisite  character,  that  made  the 
house  of  grief  a  bower  of  bloom. 


36  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

And  round  his  couch  of  dreamless  rest 
Shed  perfumes  from  the  gardens  blest. 
The  wealth  of  loving  hearts  exhaled 
In  the  pure  fragrance  that  prevailed, 
And,  like  a  prayer  of  blessing  said, 
Followed  the  spirit  that  had  fled. 

He  loved  them  so,  those  spotless  flowers 
'Twas  meet  they  fell  in  odorous  showers 
Upon  that  early  tranquil  bier,  — 
A  sweet  companionship  and  dear  ! 
The  blended  blossoms  to  decay 
Passed  from  fond,  tearful  eyes  away ; 
But,  brighter  far  than  e'er  before, 
Their  forms  fond  memory  shall  restore. 

How  cheering  is  this  wealth  of  bloom  ! 
Lifting  the  shadows  from  the  tomb, 
And  seeming,  to  our  loving  eye, 
A  gleam  of  beauty  from  on  high, 
Where  endless  youth,  eternal  joy, 
And  bliss  shall  reign  without  alloy  ; 
Where  all  that's  fair  and  good  and  pure 
Will  in  the  smile  of  God  endure. 


"  WE  ALL  DO  FADE  AS  A    LEAF."  37 


"WE   ALL   DO   FADE   AS  A   LEAF." 

ALL  faded  and  gone  are  the  whispering  leaves, 

Which  wooed  the  warm  sunshine  at  morn 
With  emerald  lips  wet  with  silvery  dew, 

Which  in  the  cool  evening  were  born. 

All  sparkling  and  bright 

In  rosy  sunlight, 
The  vision  wa"s  sweet  to  behold, 

As  trembling  they  spoke, 

When  the  breezes  awoke, 
To  clouds  fringed  with  purple  and  gold. 

The  beautiful  flowers,  which  at  twilight's  still  hour 

At  vespers  breathed  fragrance  for  prayer, 
Now  silently  sleep  in  their  moss-covered  graves, 
Reposing  in  quietude  there. 

But  sweet  thoughts  remain, 

Which  we  love  to  retain  ; 
Remembering  each  kind,  loving  one 

Who  brought  us  sweet  sprays 

In  warm  summer  days, 
To  bid  all  our  sadness  be  gone. 

4 


38  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

Like  the  leaflets  of  autumn,  so  manhood  decays, 

'Mid  usefulness,  beauty,  and  might ; 
And  long-cherished  scenes,  fraught  with  innocent  joys, 
Must  all  fade  away  from  our  sight. 

Rejoicing  in  health, 

We  seek  after  wealth, 
All  eager  for  pleasures  below ; 

Yet  leaves  as  they  fall 

Preach  sermons  to  all, 
And  bid  us  true  wisdom  to  know. 

In  heaven,  the  home  of  the  ransomed,  no  more 

Shall  the  changes  of  earth  e'er  be  known ; 
But  glory  shall  crown  every  beautiful  scene, 
Which  we  shall  enjoy  as  our  own. 

Gay  flowers  will  bloom, 

Of  richest  perfume, 
Nor  fade  in  their  beauty  and  prime, 

And  man  nevermore, 

On  that  blissful  shore, 
Shall  know  of  the  sorrows  of  time. 


MUSINGS  IN  MAY.  39 


MUSINGS    IN   MAY. 

WHEN  will  the  bounteous  gifts  of  spring 

Revive  my  heart  in  lonely  hours  ? 
When  will  my  quickened  pulses  thrill 

At  songs  of  birds  and  breath  of  flowers  ? 
When  shall  I  roam  the  perfumed  woods, 

And  muse  beside  the  crystal  streams, 
Or  feast  my  soul  where  beau-ty  smiles 

From  vine-wreathed  nooks  and  sunny  gleams  ? 

When  will  expanding  buds  and  leaves 

Unfold  their  varied  sweets  to  me, 
Who,  exiled  long  from  Nature's  charms, 

Long  more  and  more  those  charms  to  see  ? 
When  will  wild  roses  by  the  wall, 

And  other  children  of  the  wood, 
Allow  my  eyes  once  more  to  see 

What  makes  them  smile  in  solitude  ? 

Yet  some  will  help  me  to  enjoy 

The  beautiful  that  blooms  around,  — 

Will  tell  me  of  green,  mossy  dells, 
And  where  sweet  violets  are  found. 


40  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

These  kindly  acts  will  softly  tell 

The  promptings  of  a  thoughtful  love, 

As  one  pure  ray  of  welcome  light 

Proves  that  bright  sunshine  glows  above. 

An  opening  bud  or  fragrant  leaf 

Can  bring  the  sweetest  thoughts  to  me, 
If  it  but  whisper,  low  and  clear, 

"  I  think  of  thee,  —  I  think  of  thee." 
May  gentle  spirits  near  me  wait, 

To  gladly  cheer  affliction's  night, 
And  childlike  trust  forever  gild 

All  sorrow  with  a  golden  light ! 

My  all  I  would  repose  in  Him 

Who  knows  my  feeble,  struggling  bark, 
Sure  that  his  love  will  safely  guide, 

Though  "  home  "  be  far,  and  night  be  dark. 
Most  gratefully  may  I  receive 

Each  proof  of  love  "  Our  Father  "  sends, 
And  know,  e'en  in  life's  darkest  hours, 

Sunshine  with  shadow  ever  blends  ! 


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THE    WILLOWS.  41 


THE   WILLOWS. 

"  The  pendent  willows  by  the  sloping  banks."  —  Skillaler, 

BENEATH  those  leafy  willows  green,* 

In  childhood's  happy  days, 
I  oft  have  found  a  welcome  shade 

From  too  oppressive  rays  ; 
And,  when  around  my  heated  brow 

Refreshing  breezes  played, 
Bright  scenes  have  charmed  my  early  dreams, 

In  loveliest  tints  arrayed. 

Their  pliant  branches  have  been  made 

Obedient  to  my  care  ; 
And  they  have  kindly  twined  for  me 

A  sylvan  grotto  fair, 
Where  in  my  fairy  grove  I  ate 

The  strawberries  I  had  found 
But  just  behind  my  cool  retreat, 

Upon  the  grassy  mound. 


*  Sherburne's  Wharf.  Portsmouth.  N.H. 
4* 


42  ID  YLS  OF  STRA  WBERR  Y  BANK. 

There  in  youth's  fond  companionship 

The  sportive  moments  flew  ; 
While  in  the  tide  that  laved  the  shore, 

We  bathed,  —  a  happy  crew, — 
Or  floated  out  there  merrily 

Upon  the  gentle  wave, 
Having  no  thought  of  after-care, 

No  boon  of  Fate  to  crave. 

Before  life's  troubled  cares  can  come, 

Or  tears  of  sorrow  fall, 
How  sweet  the  sparkling  cup  of  joy, 

Which  we  would  oft  recall  ! 
Each  pleasant  spot  seems  then  to  glow 

With  pleasures  ever  new ; 
And  cherished  memories  then  are  born, 

Unlike  the  morning  dew. 

I  loved  those  happy  moments  when 

My  heart  was  light  and  free  ; 
When  skies  above  and  earth  around 

Smiled  lovingly  on  me  ; 
When  in  the  future,  distant  far, 

I  saw  no  clouds  arise, 
But  golden  sunshine  light  on  all, 

With  blessings  from  the  skies. 

Since  then  I've  seen  the  shining  goal 
Of  which  I  early  dreamed, 

And  found  those  pleasant  scenes  to  be 
Not  quite  what  once  they  seemed  ; 


THE    WILLOWS.  43 

But  light  and  shade  commingling  where 
The  prospect  seemed  most  fair,  — 

Where  tears  and  smiles  together  blend, 
And  joy  and  pain  and  care. 

Our  lives  are  not  quite  all  a  dream, 

Though  pleasures  bud  and  bloom, 
Like  fragrant  flowers,  which  often  find 

A  kind  but  early  tomb  ; 
But  far  beyond  these  earthly  scenes, 

Where  fondest  hopes  decay, 
A  night  of  sadness  shall  be  changed 

To  an  eternal  day. 


44  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


ANGEL  VOICES. 

WHEN  night  with  her  sombre  shadows 

Broods  in  silence  o'er  the  earth, 
Where  are  scenes  of  bitter  sadness, 

And  of  joyless,  heartless  mirth, 
List  I  to  sweet  angel  voices 

Stealing  through  the  stilly  air, 
Welcome  news  most  gladly  bringing 

From  their  starlit  dwelling  fair. 

When  the  heart  is  bowed  in  weakness 

By  the  weight  of  pain  and  grief, 
Then  I  hear  their  pure  lips  telling 

Joyous  things  for  my  relief. 
Love  ordains  the  grievous  chastening, 

Drawing  children  nearer  home, 
Where  the  soul,  earth's  fetters  broken, 

Would  most  gladly  haste  to  come. 

Choicest  flowers,  crushed  beneath  us, 
Yield  their  hidden  treasures  rare, 

Freely  their  sweet  breath  bestowing 
On  the  quiet  morning  air  ; 


ANGEL    VOICES.  45 

So  afflictions,  when  they  press  us, 

Like  a  burden,  down  to  earth, 
Only  bid  the  heart's  choice  incense 

Brighter  burn,  and  prove  its  worth. 

Angel  voices  are  above  us 

And  around  us  day  by  day, 
Blessed  words  forever  telling 

While  from  earth  we  look  away. 
To  the  weeping  and  the  sorrowing 

Speak  they  of  celestial  things, 
With  the  balm  of  consolation 

Sweetly  dropping  from  their  wings. 

Stay,  kind  heavenly  strangers,  linger  ! 

As  my  willing  guests  abide  : 
Pearls  of  truth  I  then  shall  gather, 

If  ye  tarry  by  my  side. 
Cast  your  camps  secure  about  me, 

As  once  round  Jerusalem  : 
Choicest  honors  then  shall  crown  me, 

Like  a  brilliant  diadem. 


46  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY   BANK. 


MUSINGS   ON   THE   CLOSE   OF   THE   YEAR. 

How  swiftly  ebb  the  waves  of  time 

Along  life's  broken  shore, 
Revealing  scenes  of  joy  and  pain, 

Which  charmed  and  grieved  before  ! 
For  memory  wakes  at  twilight  hour, 

While  musing  on  the  past, 
Recalling  bright  and  sunny  days 

By  shadows  overcast. 

Upon  the  tide  of  hope  we  sail 

Adown  the  flowing  stream, 
Inspired  by  warm  and  earnest  zeal 

And  many  a  thoughtful  dream. 
We  see  the  goal  towards  which  we  haste 

Beaming  with  brilliant  light, 
Nor  fear  the  unknown  depths  which  hide 

The  dangers  of  the  night. 

Life's  voyage  bids  us  fearless  roam 

O'er  many  a  stormy  sea, 
With  boisterous  winds  still  urging  on, 

And  breakers  on  the  lea  ; 


ON  THE  CLOSE   OF  THE    YEAR.  47 

But,  trusting  to  our  chart  and  guide, 

We  press  unwearied  on, 
Nor  rest  till  in  the  haven  sure, 

The  welcome  prize  is  won. 

But  ere  we  reach  that  "  open  sea," 

Beyond  this  earthly  veil, 
How  many  a  toilsome  course  we  make 

Where  chilling  storms  assail  ! 
But  cherished  hopes  are  often  hid 

Beneath  a  threatening  sky, 
And  many  a  weary  day  must  pass 

Ere  light  will  beam  on  high. 

Blest  be  the  hope  which  cheers  our  heart 

'Mid  darkness,  fears,  and  pain, — 
There  yet  remains  a  welcome  rest, 

An  everlasting  gain  ! 
Beyond  the  ever-changing  scene 

Of  life's  tempestuous  tide, 
A  home  is  found,  where  purest  joys 

Eternally  abide. 


48  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


THE    ROSE   WITHOUT   A   THORN. 

IN  future  days  shall  I  recall 

One  dewy  summer  morn, 
"When  gentle  hands  then  culled  for  me 

The  rose  without  a  thorn. 
A  token  of  sweet  peace  it  came, 

In  this  my  sorrow's  night, 
Where  lovely  flowers  bloom  unseen, 

E'en  while  they  give  delight. 

"  A  rose  without  a  thorn,"  she  said, 

Then  kindly  gave  it  me, 
When  soon  I  found  upon  its  leaves 

Were  dews  of  sympathy,  — 
Sweet  sympathy  !  whose  fragrant  breath 

Proclaimed  its  heavenly  birth, 
Whose  influence  cheers  the  weary  soul 

As  dews  the  flowers  of  earth. 

A  kindly  word,  a  gentle  tone, 

With  sympathy  sincere, 
A  trifling  deed,  performed  in  love, 

Brings  a  good  angel  near  ; 


THE  KOSE    WITHOUT  A    THORN.  49 

And,  though  her  wings  may  not  be  seen, 

As  spotless  as  the  light, 
They  bring  pure  treasures  for  the  soul, 

Which  sparkle  through  the  night. 

Around  life's  chalice  Friendship  twines 

A  wreath  of  evergreen, 
Among  whose  tendrils  delicate 

Fair  little  buds  are  seen, 
Which,  day  by  day,  most  lovingly 

Reveal  their  blushing  forms, 
Whose  precious  incense  charms  alike 

In  sunshine  and  in  storms. 

Give  me  to  drink  from  those  sweet  springs 

Which  gush  up  from  the  heart 
Of  those  who  feel  for  others'  woes, 

Who  would  all  good  impart  ; 
Who  lovingly  would  soothe  my  pain, 

Deploring  every  ill  ; 
Who  would  with  choicest,  purest  gifts 

My  humblest  chalice  fill. 


50  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


MAY    MORNING. 

Music  on  the  mountain,  music  in  the  dell, 
Where  the  rippling  streamlets,  in  soft  cadence,  tell 
Of  time's  rolling  current,  in  their  gentle  way, 
Sparkling  in  the  sunshine  through  the  livelong  day. 

Music  in  the  meadow,  music  on  the  lawn, 
Where  the  blue-eyed  blossoms  wake  to  hail  the  dawn  ; 
Peeping  through  the  curtain  of  purest  dewy  light, 
Which  fair  diamond  fingers  spread  o'er  them  at  night. 

Music  in  the  woodland,  where  the  trembling  trees 
Whisper  words  of  gladness  to  the  passing  breeze, 
Laden  with  the  praises  of  many  a  rosy  lip, 
Whose  delicious  nectar  fairy  forms  might  sip. 

Now  the  queen  of  beauty  wanders  o'er  the  plain, 
And  the  mossy  hillocks  smile  with  joy  again, 
As,  with  magic  pencil,  she  paints  glories  where 
Perfumes  rise  to  heaven,  like  sweet  words  of  prayer. 

In  the  sloping  valleys  children  of  the  wood 
Greet  her  welcome  footsteps  in  their  solitude  ; 


MAY  MORNING.  51 

And,  with  grace  so  winning,  coax  a  long  delay, 
Till  the  days  of  summer  shall  have  passed  away. 

When  the  beams  of  morning  chase  the  shades  of  night, 
And  a  thousand  anthems  hail  the  glorious  light, 
May  our  hearts  responsive  catch  the  grateful  tone, 
Swelling  high  the  chorus  to  our  Father's  throne  ! 

Who  with  bounteous   goodness  shows  his  love  and 

power, 

Making  known  his  wonders  freely  every  hour, 
Teaching  us  in  wisdom,  from  each  blooming  spring, 
That  immortal  future  time  to  all  will  bring. 


52  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


FRIENDSHIP. 

How  sweet  is  Friendship  !  —  like  the  balm 

Distilled  from  choicest  flowers, 
An  influence  like  a  heavenly  charm 

To  bless  the  fleeting  hours,  — 
Yes,  hours  passed  in  solitude, 

Where  darkness  reigns  around, 
Where  there  is  known  but  little  good, 

And  many  ills  are  found. 

Still  let  me  often  hear  thy  voice, 

Which  gently  whispers  peace  ; 
And  let  my  troubled  heart  rejoice, 

And  strains  of  sadness  cease. 
Still  speak  to  me  of  pleasant  things, — 

Of  faith  and  hope  and  joy  : 
Then  shall  I  rise  on  lightsome  wings 

Where  pains  no  more  annoy. 

Thy  soothing  tones  with  peace  beguile 

The  weary  hours  of  pain, 
And  make  the  lonely  sufferer  smile, 

And  joy  to  come  again. 


ON  FRIENDSHIP.  53 

Like  voices  of  the  stilly  night, 

Glad  spirits  come  and  go  ; 
And  tell  of  things  in  visions  bright, 

Which  dreams  reveal  below. 

Let  me  feel  friendship's  magic  power, 

Whate'er  my  prospects  be, 
Kindly  as  dewdrops  kiss  the  flower, 

Or  moonbeams  gild  the  sea  : 
Then  shall  I  feel  thy  presence  near, 

Though  clouds  obscure  my  skies, 
And  no  more  dreary,  dark  hours  fear, 

Till  heaven  shall  greet  mine  eyes. 


54  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


A    GRATEFUL   RESPONSE   TO  THE    PORTS 
MOUTH    CORNET   BAND. 

THRICE  welcome  were  the  harmonies  which  broke 

Upon  my  ear  at  twilight  hour, 
When  from  the  realms  of  dreamland  quick  I  woke, 

Enchanted  by  their  magic  power  : 
Those  cheerful  notes  like  silver  bells  I  heard 

Ring  merry  chimes  within  this  gloom  : 
My  weary  heart  with  joy  once  more  was  stirred  ; 

And  sunshine  filled  my  darkened  room. 

Sweet  memories  of  departed  days  once  more 

Recalled  the  songs  that  then  were  sung 
With  youthful  friends  of  buoyant  heart,  before 

My  harp  upon  the  willows  hung  ; 
And  yet  again  I  live  in  manhood's  prime, 

Forgetting  all  my  loss  and  pain, 
While  your  delicious  notes,  like  summer-time, 

Bloom  into  life  with  each  refrain  : 

For  once  again  your  generous  sympathy 

Has  poured  inspiring  strains  for  me  ; 
As  'twere  a  benediction  from  the  sky 

You  gave  the  friend  you  could  not  see. 


FOR  TSMG  UTH  CORNE  T  BAND.  5  5 

I  claimed  it ;  and,  though  many  a  deed  may  fail 

To  grace  the  page  of  memory, 
This  pleasant  thought  I  know  will  sure  prevail. 

Which  reads,  "  Ye  did  it  unto  me." 

How  blest  thy  mission,  thus  to  sweetly  cheer 

With  tuneful  notes  the  burdened  heart, 
When  life's  fair  scenes  would  else  seem  lone  and  drear 

Bereft  of  thy  soul-stirring  art ! 
How  many  a  joy  thy  welcome  advent  wakes 

In  weary  hours  of  solitude, 
In  which  delight  e'en  now  my  heart  partakes, 

With  sincere  gratitude  imbued. 


56  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


CONTENTMENT,   OR   THE   BLEST  JEWEL. 

I  ASKED  a  young  man  blest  with  health, 

Whose  star  of  life  was  bright, 
To  whom  all  future  prospects  seemed 

To  dance  in  golden  light, 
If  he  this  jewel  kept  concealed 

Within  his  hopeful  breast,  — 
If  at  this  stage  he  soon  should  pause, 

His  soul  would  find  sweet  rest. 

"  Ah,  no  !  "  he  said  :  "  the  goal  beyond 

Invites  my  hastening  feet. 
Distinguished  honors  wait  me  there  : 

Life's  warfare  I  must  meet. 
I  long  to  see  the  golden  light 

Encircling  my  fair  name, 
And  read  on  tablets  deep  engraved 

The  blazon  of  my  fame." 

I  asked  a  rich  man,  blest  with  wealth, 

And  all  things  good  and  fair, 
To  whom  the  skies  looked  bright  above, 

—  No  shadows  lingering  there,  — 


CONTENTMENT,    OR    THE  BLEST  JEWEL.   57 

If,  blest  with  wealth,  he  there  would  wait 

While  Time's  swift  car  rolled  on, 
And  be  contented  with  his  lot 

Till  life's  brief  sands  were  run. 

"  Ah,  no  !  "  he  said  :  "  though  pleasures  lie 

Within  my  grasp  each  day, 
The  wheel  of  fortune  quick  may  turn, 

And  sweep  my  all  away. 
A  '  little  more  '  I  must  obtain 

Against  an  evil  hour  ; 
And  then  secure  will  I  repose, 

Nor  fear  the  tyrant's  power." 

I  asked  a  poor  man,  struggling  hard 

To  breast  the  storms  of  life, 
Whose  surging  billows  almost  hide 

Him  'neath  their  angry  strife, 
If  he  had  found  that  goodly  tree 

Whose  precious  fruit  so  fair, 
If  tasted;  would  all  joy  afford, 

And  peaceful  offerings  bear. 

"  Ah,  no  !  "  he  said :  "  the  rich  have  wealth, 

—  With  ease  it  can  provide,  — 
While  I  toil  on  with  grief  opprest 

From  morn  till  eventide.  . 
And  when  the  shadows  gather  fast, 

My  wasting  strength  quite  spent, 
I  lay  me  down  'mid  tears  and  pain,  — 

No  :  I  am  not  content." 


58  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

I  asked  the  Christian,  who  is  found 

Among  the  poor  and  great,  — 
Oft  clothed  in  garments  coarse  and  worn, 

Sometimes  in  robes  of  state,  — 
If  he  had  found  the  jewel  bright, 

More  prized  than  rubies  rare, 
Which  would,  as  a  pure  treasure  kept, 

Yield  comfort  everywhere. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  he  said,  while  radiant  smiles 

Illumed  his  happy  face  : 
"  That  priceless  gem  has  long  been  mine,  - 

The  gift  of  sovereign  grace  ; 
Because,  at  peace  within,  my  heart 

Invites  no  anxious  care  : 
But  sweet  Content  her  offering  brings, 

And  makes  her  dwelling  there." 


PEACE,   BE  STILL.  59 


PEACE,   BE   STILL. 

WHEN  o'er  life's  sky  a  curtain  deep 

Close  hides  the  genial  light 
Which  ever  shines  dark  clouds  above 

With  rays  most  pure  and  bright  ; 
When  sorrows  crowd  around  our  way, 

And  tears  our  chalice  fill, 
Then  gladly  hears  the  burdened  soul 

The  accents,  "  Peace,  be  still." 

When  love's  sweet  bonds  are  severed  wide, 

And  cherished  friends  depart, 
Who,  though  so  pure  and  spotless  here, 

Might  not  escape  death's  dart  ; 
When  poignant  grief  or  dull  despair 

Their  bitter  dews  distil, 
Then  softly  as  sweet  music  comes 

The  gentle  "  Peace,  be  still." 

Like  balm  from  Gilead  freely  sent, 

Or  fruits  from  Eschol's  vine, 
They  bid  our  drooping  spirits  rise, 

And  cause  the  face  to  shine  ; 


60  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

While  living  streams  forever  flow, 

Free  as  the  mountain  rill  : 
Then  in  most  soothing  tones  we  hear 

The  accents,  "  Peace,  be  still." 

May  He  who  rules  the  raging  storm, 

Who  bids  the  billows  sleep, 
Uphold  us  with  his  outstretched  hand, 

And  ever  near  us  keep. 
How  would  our  hearts  within  us  burn, 

And  joy  our  bosoms  fill, 
Could  we  above  life's  tempests  hear 

His  holy  "  Peace,  be  still  "  ! 


BEAUTIFUL  IS  MOONLIGHT.  61 


BEAUTIFUL   IS   MOONLIGHT. 

BEAUTIFUL  is  moonlight,  flashing  through  the  trees, 
Kissing  trembling  leaflets  ruffled  by  the  breeze, 
Gilding  branch  and  flower  with  a  mellow  hue, 
Giving  each  new  beauty,  charming  to  the  view. 
With  a  chain  of  silver  earth  and  heaven  unite  ; 
Peaceful  thoughts  fly  homeward,  up  the  shining  height 
Thence  our  hearts  will  follow  to  that  other  shore, 
Where  true  beauty  lingers,  fadeless  evermore. 

Beautiful  is  moonlight  resting  on  the  billow, 
Softly  as  an  infant  on  its  downy  pillow ; 
The  blue  waters  bridging  with  a  golden  way, 
As  if  paved  with  jewels  by  the  god  of  day. 
O'er  this  shining  pathway  fancy  oft  will  roam, 
And  behold  pure  spirits  passing  to  their  home, 
By  the  fragrant  zephyrs  swiftly  fanned  along, 
While  the  blessed  angels  chant  their  sweetest  song. 

O'er  the  fields  of  clover  swift  the  moonbeams  glide, 
Shooting  o'er  dark  valleys  where  the  streamlets  hide, 
Lighting  up  the  meadows,  where  the  crystal  dew 
Sparkles  on  the  herbage,  cooling  it  anew. 
6 


62  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

Through  the  woods  and  orchards  their  glowing  track- 
is  seen, 

Smilingly  "  bo-peeping  "  through  the  branches  green  ; 
While  the  fragrant  blossoms,  touched  with  silver  glow, 
Whisper  to  each  other  approvingly,  I  know. 

What  a  flood  of  glory  bathes  the  fields  and  flowers  ! 
What  inspiring  stillness  charms  the  midnight  hours  ! 
What  a  gush  of  feeling  wells  up  from  the  soul, 
While  the  grateful  anthems  through  its  arches  roll  ! 
And  the  very  silence  beautifies  the  scene, 
Dlencling  all  the  glory  with  a  joy  serene, 
As  the  gentle  whispers  of  a  Father's  love 
Lead  the  willing  spirit  to  its  home  above. 

Beauteous  moonlight  evenings  have  a  silent  power, 
Soothing  oft  the  weary  in  a  troubled  hour, 
When  inspired  voices  sing  within  the  breast, 
Telling  their  glad  story,  —  perfect,  endless  rest. 
Let  my  fancy  revel  with  the  moonbeams  bright, 
Though  I  do  not  gaze  upon  their  silver  light, 
By  and  by  made  perfect,  on  the  "  shining  shore," 
I'll  view  all  its  glories,  happy  evermore. 


1LET  THERE  BE  LIGHT."  63 


"LET   THERE  BE   LIGHT." 

THICK  darkness  brooded  o'er  the  slumbering  earth; 

While  silent  at  the  gate  of  Morning  slept 

The  warder,  with  his  golden  quiver  full 

Of  shining  arrows  barbed  with  crimson  light, 

Which  lay  concealed  as  in  a  sacred  shrine, 

Awaiting  royal  hands  to  bring  them  forth. 

Above  his  brow,  a  crown  of  purest  white, 

Inlaid  with  brilliants  and  rose-tinted  pearls, 

In  silent  grandeur  rested,  like  a  cloud 

Of  diamonds  girt  with  bands  of  rainbow  hue, 

Whose  beauty,  veiled  in  deepest  shade,  refused 

To  cast  a  glory  o'er  the  dismal  scene. 

Above,  no  star-gemmed  canopy  o'erspread 

The  wide  expanse,  on  which  are  seen  the  steps 

Of  angels,  as  in  countless  hosts  they  march 

On  azure  pavements  round  the  sapphire  throne  ; 

Below,  no  signs  of  life  or  beauty  stirred 

The  praise  of  seraphs,  who,  with  folded  wings, 

In  wonder  e'er  behold  the  wondrous  power 

Of  Him  who  maketh  all  things  good  and  fair. 

On  either  hand  dark  curtains  hung,  where  lay, 

Entombed  within  the  wide,  unmeasured  space, 


64  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  DANK. 

A  priceless,  unknown  jewel,  destined  yet 

Upon  the  signet-ring  of  Him  to  shine 

Whose  royal  seal  proclaims  the  wisdo  m,  love 

And  matchless  skill  of  the  great  Architect. 

Upon  the  face  of  mighty  waters  dwelt 

A  cloud,  which,  in  its  hollow  chambers  drear, 

Concealed  the  restless  billows  capped  with  foam, 

And  hushed  its  echoes  in  deep  solitude. 

The  searching  eye  of  Deity,  with  whom 

Alike  the  darkness  and  the  light  are  one, 

Beheld  the  lonely  scene,  so  desolate  ; 

While  on  his  ear  low  moans  from  heaven  above 

And  earth  beneath  fell  piteously  distinct, 

Like  the  sad  waitings  of  the  wintry  wind, 

As,  in  their  prison-house  enchained,  they  sighed 

In  mutual  grief  for  life  and  light  unknown  : 

Then,  moved  by  love  and  power  infinite, 

In  majesty  he  gave  the  great  command, 

—  And  yet  commanded  from  his  throne  no  one,  — 

"  Let  there  be  light!"  and  instantly  "  light  was." 


THE  BASKET  OF  STRAWBERRIES.          65 


THE   BASKET  OF   STRAWBERRIES. 

BERRIES  sweet  and  berries  red 

Generous  hands  have  brought  to-day, 
Gathered  where  the  robins  fed, 

Near  the  fields  of  new-mown  hay  ; 
Luscious  in  their  tempting  prime, 

Their  rich  fragrance  lingers  near 
While  I  tell  in  hasty  rhyme 

What  now  makes  the  gift  more  dear. 

Some  kind  friend  who  views  the  sun, 

Birds  and  trees  and  brooks  and  flowers, 
Gorgeous  shades  when  day  is  run, 

Rosy  tints  at  morning  hours, 
Thought  of  my  e'er  darkened  room, 

Where  bright  sunshine  smileth  not, 
Glad  to  prove,  though  veiled  in  gloom, 

I  by  no  means  was  forgot. 

Even  now  methinks  I  see 

Snow-white  hands  divide  the  leaves, 
Where  the  strawberries  daintily 

Hide  beneath  their  sheltering  eaves. 
6* 


66  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK'. 

Put  for  a  sweet,  gentle  tone, 
Like  low  breathings  of  a  flute, 

I  should  think  snow-birds  had  flown 
'Mong  the  vines  in  search  of  fruit. 

Blessings  ever  be  on  those, 

Who,  though  wealth  and  ease  obtain, 
Ne'er  forget  a  sufferer's  woes, 

Drawing  from  their  hearts'  deep  main  ; 
Whose  pure  waters  bright  and  cool 

As  sweet  balm  refresh  and  cheer, 
When  the  burdened  billows  roll, 

Crested  with  both  pain  and  fear. 

Benisons  on  each  kind  heart 

Who  would  lift  a  veil  of  woe, 
And  by  cheerful  tones  impart 

Happy  thoughts  the  sad  to  know. 
Life  to  such  is  not  a  dream, 

When  each  deed  fresh  pleasure  brings  : 
To  our  grateful  souls  they  seem 

Angels,  but  with  folded  wings. 


SLEEP.  67 


SLEEP. 

WHEN  Night  with  unseen  fingers  draws 

Her  curtain  o'er  the  sky, 
Embroidered  with  those  brilliant  gems, 

Which  shine  so  pure  on  high, 
Within  its  darksome  shade  there  comes 

The  messenger  of  rest, 
Who  in  deep  silence  folds  his  wings 

Above  each  weary  breast. 

With  noiseless  footsteps  soft  and  light, 

Like  flakes  of  falling  snow, 
He  ventures  near,  and  lays  his  wand 

Upon  my  aching  brow. 
Forgetful  of  those  varied  cares 

With  which  earth's  labor  teems, 
I  tread  the  flowery  paths  of  peace, 

Found  in  the  realm  of  dreams. 

I  oft  recline  in  lovely  bowers, 

And  muse  contented  there, 
Where  charming  fragrance,  freely  breathed, 

Pervades  the  balmy  air. 


68  IDYLS   OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

I  wander  through  fair  meadows  green, 

Where  modest  violets  grow, 
And  through  the  woodland's  spicy  shade, 

Where  dancing  streamlets  flow. 

I  list  enchanted  to  those  strains 

Which  sweetly  charm  the  mind, 
Struck  from  a  harp  by  unseen  hands, 

And  borne  upon  the  wind  : 
I  catch  the  burden  of  a  song, 

As  floats  the  echo  by, 
Whose  heavenly  cadence  breathes  of  joys 

Which  never,  never  die. 

I  meet  again  the  loved  and  true, 

Whose  voice  once  cheered  me  here, 
And  list  to  hear  those  accents  pure 

Which  once  brought  heaven  near. 
Content  and  blest,  I  thus  would  stay, 

And  know  no  harm  nor  fears, 
Where  angel  spirits  always  dwell, 

To  chase  desponding  tears. 

But  Sleep  extends  her  gentle  wings, 

Obedient  to  her  laws, 
And  Night  before  the  gates  of  morn 

Her  curtain  dark  withdraws. 
I  wake  amid  life's  toils  and  cares, 

And  find  not  all  a  dream  ; 
But,  though  dark  clouds  may  round  us  lower, 

Blest  rays  of  hope  still  gleam. 


IN  THE    VALLEY,  69 


IN   THE   VALLEY. 

IN  the  valley,  where  the  shadows 

Linger  in  the  woodland  bowers, 
Veiling  in  their  dreamy  silence 

Clustering  vines  and  fragrant  flowers, 

Would  I  love  to  roam  ; 
Listening  to  the  murmuring  streamlets 

O'er  their  pebbly  pathways  flowing, 
As  they  dance  to  silvery  music, 

On  their  winding  mission  going 
Toward  their  ocean  home. 

Lilies  in  the  crystal  waters, 

Dripping  with  their  diamond  tears  ; 
Daisies  on  the  mossy  hillocks, 

Smiling  when  the  sun  appears, 

Would  I  love  to  own  ; 
Seeking,  too,  the  laughing  cowslips 

Skirting  all  the  meads  around,  — 
Golden  flowers  with  sunny  faces, 

Vying  with  sweet  violets  found 
O'er  the  green  banks  strown. 


70  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

Songsters  in  the  branches  chirping, 

In  the  cool  and  balmy  air, 
Welcoming  the  tints  of  morning 

In  a  concert  sweet  and  rare, 
Would  delight  me  long  ; 
While  content  among  the  bovvers, 

Free  from  grief  and  pain  and  care, 
Drinking  fragrance  from  the  flowers, 

Would  I  chant  pure  praises  there, 
In  one  grateful  song. 

In  another  valley  dreary 

Must  I  suffering,  patient  wait, 
Where  no  purple  tints  of  morning 

Ope  to  me  the  Orient  gate 

While  I  tarry  here  ; 
But  beyond  these  dark  surroundings, 

Where  immortal  flowers  shall  bloom,  • 
Where  no  tears  nor  pain  nor  sorrows 

Shall  be  known  beyond  the  tomb,  — 
Is  my  rest,  so  dear. 

In  sweet  vales  "  beyond  the  river," 

Redolent  with  choicest  balm 
From  the  "  tree  of  life  "  proceeding, 

Which  can  my  lone  spirit  calm, 

Shall  I  shortly  roam  ; 
And  beside  the  cool,  "  still  waters  " 

Pluck  the  fadeless,  purest  flowers, 
As  they  smile,  like  Eden's  treasures, 

From  enchanting  heavenly  bowers, 
In  my  long-sought  home. 


MEMORY  AND  HOPE.  71 


MEMORY   AND   HOPE. 

STILL  dark  shadows  fall  around  me, 

As  I  pensive  muse  alone, 
Where  relentless  chains  have  bound  me, 

While  life's  summer  days  have  flown. 
Though  in  this  low  vale  I  tarry, 

Shut  out  from  the  fair  blue  sky, 
Yet  within  my  heart  I  carry 

Pictures  that  can  never  die. 

Where  the  woodland's  shady  hollows 

Stretch  out  in  long  aisles  away, 
There  imagination  follows 

Till  I  almost  see  the  day 
Smile  in  beauty  all  around  me  ; 

While  the  bowers  of  evergreen 
With  their  fragrant  breath  surround  me, 

Blessing  all  the  pleasant  scene. 

Through  the  scented,  tangled  wild-wood, 
Memory  wanders  many  a  day, 

Where  in  buoyant,  happy  childhood 
With  my  mates  I  used  to  stray ; 


72  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

And  I  hear  again  glad  voices 
Wandering  through  the  silent  shade  ; 

When  my  heart  once  more  rejoices 
That  not  all  which  charmed  must  fade. 

Though  I  cannot  cull  those  flowers 

Which  once  cheered  both  heart  and  sight, 
Nor  with  dear  ones  share  those  hours 

Which  ne'er  failed  to  give  delight, 
Now  and  then  a  blossom  falleth 

From  my  fancy's  slender  tree, 
Which  some  pleasant  scene  recalleth, 

Fair  to  those  who  think  of  me. 

Then  I  seem  to  live  again 

In  those  sunny  days  of  yore, 
Waking,  with  a  sense  of  pain, 

Still  upon  the  hither  shore. 
And  I  look  "  beyond  the  river  " 

Where  the  heart's  chief  treasures  lie, 
Longing  to  "  abide  forever," 

Clothed  with  immortality. 


MAY-FLOWERS.  73 


MAY-FLOWERS. 

SWEET  gifts  of  May,  fair  blossoms  of  the  spring  ! 
Your  fragrant  breath  proclaims  to  me 
That  sunny  days  have  smiled  on  thee, 
And  warmed  thee  into  life  again, 
'Mid  melting  snows  and  April  rain  ; 

And  now  my  muse  thy  praise  would  sing. 

What  pleasant  thoughts  your  dewy  petals  bring 
Of  former  days  of  sun  and  shower, 
When  blooming  health  blest  every  hour  ; 
When  bud  and  blossom,  leaf  and  tree, 
In  early  spring  gave  joy  to  me  ! 

To  all  those  years  what  sunny  memories  cling ! 

Fair  buds  of  May,  what  trust  thy  frail  lives  teach  ! 

Though  veiled  beneath  the  drifted  snow, 

A  calm  repose  ye  found  below 

Green  ferns  and  mosses  of  the  wood,  ' 

Content  with  thine  own  solitude, 

Sure  that  the  sun's  bright  beams  thy  couch  would  reach, 
7 


74  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

And  smile  as  mothers  smile  upon  the  face 
Of  little  ones  in  peaceful  rest. 
Glad  to  obey  their  first  behest, 
When  new  life  wakens  with  the  light, 
When  angels  cease  their  watch  by  night, 

And  give  to  each  fair  child  new  strength  and  grace. 

Sweet  children,  come  !  come,  whisper  in  my  ear 
With  fragrant  breath  the  lesson  taught 
By  Him  whose  loving  care  is  fraught 
With  precious  blessings,  numbered  o'er 
For  all  his  children,  rich  and  poor, 

That  I  may  ever  feel  his  presence  near. 

Oh  !  let  my  faith  be  strong  in  him  each  day  ; 
So  that  in  every  darksome  hour, 
When  shadows  round  my  tent  may  lower, 
Or  when  my  sky  glows  bright  with  love, 
Proceeding  from  the  throne  above, 

I  e'er  may  learn  sweet  trust  from  "  flowers  of  May." 


LIGHT  IN  DARKNESS.  75 


LIGHT   IN   DARKNESS. 

TO   MY   FRIENDS. 

SOME  with  music  seek  my  pleasure, 
Kindest  thoughts  joined  to  each  measure. 
Sympathy  most  true  they  bring  me, 
Sweeter  than  the  notes  they  sing  me. 

Thoughtful  deeds  and  words  most  tender 
Are  the  tribute  some  would  render 
When  my  heart  is  sad  and  weary, 
And  life's  journey  seems  most  dreary. 

Some  bestow  their  choicest  flowers, 
Thus  to  cheer  the  lonesome  hours ; 
Wishing,  with  the  sweets  revealing, 
Angel  forms  might  near  be  stealing, 

With  inspiring  thoughts  to  bless  me, 
And  with  loving  words  caress  me  ; 
While  in  pain  I'm  ever  pining 
For  the  brightness  clearly  shining. 


76  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

With  pure  hearts  and  faces  smiling, 
All  foreboding  fears  beguiling, 
Some,  their  sheaves  of  plenty  bringing, 
Set  my  grateful  heart  to  singing. 

So  my  generous  friends,  combining, 
Bid  me  view  the  silver  lining 
Which  dark  shadows  were  concealing 
Till  the  time  for  its  revealing. 

While  our  Father's  love  protecting, 
Every  good  for  us  selecting, 
But  allows  the  clouds  of  sorrow 
To  precede  heaven's  bright  to-morrow. 


ONE  LITTLE    WORD.  77 


ONE   LITTLE   WORD. 

* 

WHAT'S  in  a  word,  a  smile,  a  tear  ? 

What's  in  a  gentle  tone  ? 
I  answer,  What  is  in  a  rose 

With  all  its  fragrance  gone  ? 
What's  in  the  grasping  of  the  hand  ? 

What  in  a  fond  caress  ? 
A  language  spoken  without  words, 

That  proves  its  power  no  less. 

One  little  word  I  like  to  hear, 

Of  such  a  pleasant  tone, 
It  comes  so  sweetly  to  my  ear 

When  suffering  and  alone. 
It  signifies  a  willing  mind, 

A  kindness  pure  and  free, 
As  if  'twere  "  pleasure  "  to  perform 

Aught  undertook  by  thee. 

It  speaks  a  silent  sympathy 

Beneath  an  uttered  tone, 
Which  makes  it  easy  oft  to  ask 

To  have  some  favor  done. 

7* 


78  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

It  seems  to  make  one's  burden  less 
When  cheerful  words  are  near, 

Which  but  attend  on  ready  hands, 
That  make  each  act  more  dear. 

I  gaze  not  on  the  golden  beams 

Of  brightness  others  see : 
My  sun  shines  out  from  words  and  deeds 

Most  kindly  shown  to  me. 
A  cheerful  "  yes,"  when  racked  with  pain, 

Is  music  to  my  ear  : 
I  gather  from  the  silvery  tone 

An  angel  form  is  near. 

It  proves  amid  external  things 

Dwells  living  sympathy, 
So  welcome  when  one  can  but  be 

Dependent,  never  free. 
Through  all  my  life  may  friendly  words 

And  pleasant  sounds  unite 
To  make  up  in  sweet  harmony 

What  cannot  bless  my  sight ! 


MY  WELCOME  SERENADE.  79 


MY  WELCOME   SERENADE. 

Though  remote  from  town,  musicians  who  may  be  in  the  vicinity  of  his 
home,  favor  him  with  serenades  that  greatly  cheer  him.  The  following  was 
in  response  to  a  party  of  singers,  "  camping  out"  at  Sagamore  Creek,  who 
paid  him  a  visit  at  twilight,  and  sang  him  songs  and  hymns,  at  which  he  was 
particularly  delighted.  The  poem  breathes  the  grateful  feeling  of  the 
author  on  the  occasion.  —  ED. 

STILL  remembered,  though  dark  shadows 

Yet  obscure  my  weary  way ; 
For  the  sunshine  of  your  gladness 

Cheered  my  heart  anew  to-day  : 
And  I  welcomed  the  sweet  offering 

Generous  friends  thus  proffered  me, 
While  unseen  I  eager  listened 

To  each  measure  gratefully  ! 

Earnest  seeking  health  and  pleasure 

Where  the  cooling  breezes  blow, 
Thoughtfully  a  while  you  lingered 

Proofs  of  kindliness  to  show 
One  who  cannot  pluck  the  flowers 

Which  adorn  your  pleasant  way, 
Nor  behold  those  scenes  of  beauty 

Which  invite  a  long  delay. 


8o  IDYLS   OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

Let  me  hear  the  lively  chorus 

When  the  cheerful  throngs  go  by, 
Song  and  laughter  freely  blending 

With  the  invalid's  low  sigh. 
Life  must  not  have  too  much  sadness, 

Though  the  cloud  of  sorrow  lowers ; 
Cheering  beams  of -sunny  brightness 

Smile  between  the  April  showers. 

And  my  heart  is  yet  responsive 

To  the  sounds  of  joy  and  mirth, 
To  the  beauty  and  the  gladness 

Which  in  innocence  have  birth  : 
But  I  gaze  beyond  the  river, 

Where  are  joys  unknown  before  ; 
Where  shall  come  no  night  of  weepirg, 

E'er  to  dim  that  shining  shore. 

SAGAMORE,  July  29,  1869. 


AUTUMN  LEAVES.  81 


AUTUMN   LEAVES. 

AUTUMN  leaves  now  gently  falling 

To  the  soil  which  gave  them  birth, 
With  their  gorgeous  colors  blending 

Like  a  rainbow  dropped  to  earth, 
Speak  in  accents  sad  but  truthful 

Of  those  hopes  we  hold  most  dear, 
Whispering,  like  the  sweetest  music, 

Blessed  thoughts  the  heart  to  cheer. 

First,  in  vigor  bright  and  healthful, 

With  their  emerald  beauty  dressed, 
Fanned  by  zephyrs  richly  laden 

With  the  odors  of  the  West, 
Sunny  skies  above  them  bending, 

Sport  they  all  in  life's  young  morn  ; 
To  each  beauteous  scene  bestowing 

Eden's  freshness,  glory  born. 

Now  with  vestures  richly  varied, 

—  Russet,  orange,  green,  and  red,  — 

Crowning  all  the  woods  with  splendor 
Eie  they  seek  their  mossy  bed  ; 


IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

One  by  one  they  droop  and  wither, 
Touched  by  autumn's  chilling  frost, 

Till  bright  leaves  with  silver  linings 
Are  in  all  their  beauty  lost. 

So  life's  scenes  are  often  changeful, 

Varying  with  the  light  and  shade  : 
Where  the  fairest  flowers  blossom, 

There  the  thorn  its  home  hath  made. 
But  though  clouds  may  dim  our  prospects, 

And  our  fondest  hopes  decay, 
Brighter  is  the  day  before  us 

When  the  night  is  chased  away. 

Like  cool  autumn's  fading  leaflets, 

We  must  heed  our  final  call, 
When  the  silver  cord  is  loosened, 

And  the  shadows  round  us  fall : 
Then  with  pure,  angelic  beauty, 

Free  from  every  earthly  stain,  — 
Then  the  soul  shall  find  its  treasures 

When  its  springtime  comes  again. 


BRING  FLOWERS.  83 


BRING   FLOWERS. 

BRING  flowers  to  me  each  sunny  morn, 

Bespangled  with  the  dew  ; 
For  gifts  like  these,  so  pure  and  fair, 

Awaken  thoughts  of  you. 
I'll  breathe  their  fragrance  floating  near 

When  silent  and  alone, 
And  bless  the  hand  that  gathered  them 

To  make  them  all  mine  own. 

Bring  flowers,  for  they  sweetly  tell 

Of  blooming  meads  around  ; 
Of  pleasant  nooks,  where  velvet  leaves 

Of  every  shade  are  found. 
Bring  lilies  from  the  crystal  stream, 

Wild  roses  from  the  wall, 
And  many  a  pet  from  woodland  homes, 

Which  former  days  recall. 

I  love  the  mild  and  gentle  breath 
Which  wakes  the  buds  of  spring, 

And  bids  the  fragrant  violets  bloom, 
To  which  fond  memories  cling. 


84  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

E'en  now  I  think  I  see  them  smile 

Upon  the  hillocks  green, 
Just  peeping  with  ceiulean  eyes 

The  golden  moss  between. 

I  love  the  welcome  summer,  too, 

Replete  with  beauteous  flowers, 
Which  scatter  incense  through  the  air, 

And  charm  the  twilight  hours. 
Like  sisters,  hand  in  hand  they  glide 

To  beauty's  gay  boudoir  : 
One  turns  the  key  with  fragrant  hand, 

The  other  opes  the  door. 

Within  a  treasury  of  sweets 

Would  I  in  quiet  rest, 
And  hold  some  blushing  roses  close 

To  my  sad,  troubled  breast  ; 
Then  should  I  dream  of  lovely  bowers, 

Where  health  and  beauty  stay, 
While  speed  the  joyous,  happy  hours 

Throughout  the  livelong  day. 

When  I  am  gone,  let  sweet  flowers  smile 

Above  my  lowly  form, 
Because  a  weary  soul  has  passed 

Beyond  life's  fitful  storm. 
With  perfumed  lips  they  plainly  tell 

Of  life  beyond  the  tomb, 
Where  God  shall  with  a  holy  light 

The  darkest  way  illume. 


JESUS,  MY  HOPE.  85 


JESUS,    MY   HOPE. 

WITH  hope  in  Christ,  I  fear  no  ill, 
For  his  right  hand  supports  me  still  ; 
Though  trials  here  my  paths  surround, 
I  boast  in  him  my  strength  is  found. 
He  will  supply  sustaining  grace 
To  those  who  seek  with  love  his  face. 

When  clouds  around  my  tent  prevail, 
And  gloomy  thoughts  my  peace  assail ; 
When  cherished  hopes  are  severed  here, 
Where  strong  hearts  know  the  bitter  tear, 
In  him  a  safe  retreat  I  find: 
A  refuge  from  each  stormy  wind. 

When  bound  by  sad  affliction's  chain, 
Oppressed  with  grief,  beset  with  pain  ; 
When  tedious  days  new  troubles  weave, 
So  that  to  dust  my  soul  would  cleave, 
One  lively  hope  illumes  the  night  : 
Jesus  is  near,  though  veiled  from  sight. 


86  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

When  joy  and  love  expand  their  wings, 

My  heart  with  wonder  often  sings, 

That  I  have  found,  in  one  so  dear, 

A  bosom  friend,  forever  near, 

Who  will  his  promises  defend, 

And  ne'er  forsake,  though  time  should  end. 

In  Jesus  all  my  peace  is  found  : 

He  makes  my  purest  joys  abound ; 

He  bids  me  at  his  table  wait 

To  share  the  banquet  free  and  great. 

I  tarry  long :  my  soul  is  fed 

By  angel  hands  with  heavenly  bread. 

His  presence  I  more  highly  prize 
Than  all  the  gold  beneath  the  skies  : 
My  birthright  here  I  would  not  lose 
For  all  the  honors  I  could  choose  : 
More  precious  far  than  rubies  rare, 
His  words  my  cherished  treasures  are. 

Blest  Jesus  !  I  would  see  thy  face, 
In  whom  I  trust  for  every  grace  : 
Thy  friendly  counsels  I  would  hear, 
With  cheerful  heart  and  willing  ear. 
Oh !  grant  me  still  thy  power  divine  : 
Thine  arms  of  love  still  round  me  twine. 


FALLING  SNOW.  87 


FALLING   SNOW. 

IN  airy  crowds  from  the  regions  above, 

Silent  and  pure  as  a  whisper  of  love, 

These  winged  sprites,  in  their  chariots  white, 

Descend  to  earth  like  an  army  of  light. 

They  pitch  their  tents  on  the  mountain's  side, 

In  vales  beneath,  where  the  streamlets  glide: 

They  rest  content  in  the  tops  of  the  trees, 

And  fearlessly  sport  with  the  jubilant  breeze. 

Like  knights  in  ermine  with  glistening  spears, 

They  sally  forth  when  the  storm-king  appears, 

And  scale  high  walls,  standing  never  aloof, 

But  post  their  sentries  on  casement  and  roof. 

Their  countless  hosts  in  battalions  press  on 

So  fast  that  triumph  is  sure  to  be  won  ; 

And  paeans  loud  are  then  borne  by  the  gale 

O'er  white-crowned  turrets,  through  each  lonely  vale, 

Through  forests  dark  to  the  wild-rolling  sea, 

To  plunge  in  the  mists  of  immensity. 

They  reign  supreme  in  the  shadows  of  night, 

And  safely  roam  by  the  moon's  silvery  light, 

With  sandals  light,  over  meadow  and  hill, 

And  dance  with  glee  o'er  the  ice-fettered  rill. 


88  IDYLS   OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

With  downy  crests,  with  the  wind  for  their  steed, 

They  ride  unchecked  where  their  fancies  lead  ; 

Approaching  slowly  where  bright  fires  gleam, 

To  pass  away  as  a  beautiful  dream. 

With  fingers  soft  they  oft  play  with  our  hair, 

Departing  soon  ere  we  know  they  are  there  ; 

And  try  in  glee  to  awaken  a  smile, 

While  dancing  close  to  our  eyelids  the  while. 

Untamed  and  free  they  oft  dare  to  sip 

Nectarian  sweets  from  the  pure  ruby  lip 

Of  maidens  fair,  who  would  blush  to  bestow 

A  gift  so  freely  to  others  we  know ; 

But  caught  at  last  they  do  penance  in  tears, 

And  vanish  soon  as  the  birth  of  their  fears. 

With  purest  lips  they  kiss  the  blue  stream, 

Then  melt  away  in  a  sweet,  dewy  dream, 

And  slumber  on,  wishing  never  to  rise, 

Till  silent,  unseen,  they  ascend  to  the  skies. 


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THE  BETTER  LAND.  89 


THE   BETTER    LAND. 

THERE  is  a  land,  a  better  land, 

Beyond  this  earthly  scene, 
Whose  distant  shores  we  long  to  see, 

Though  dark  waves  roll  between. 
We  wish  to  view  those  flowery  banks, 

Washed  by  the  living  stream, 
And  gaze  upon  those  wondrous  things, 

Unknown  to  Fancy's  dream. 

We  wish  to  breathe  the  balmy  air, 

With  fragrance  e'er  replete, 
And  see  the  crystal  dewdrops  fall 

Like  diamonds  at  our  feet ; 
We  long  to  gaze  the  landscape  o'er, 

All  spangled  with  pure  gems, 
And  pluck  the  blushing  roses  there, 

Without  their  thorny  stems. 

We  long  to  hear  those  heavenly  strains 

The  angels  love  to  sing, 
To  which  the  golden  harps  attune 

Their  sweetest  offering. 
8* 


90  JDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

Most  gladly  would  we  lend  an  ear 

To  the  eternal  song, 
And  join  to  swell  the  chorus  loud, 

With  all  the  ransomed  throng. 

No  sickness,  pain,  nor  death  shall  there 

Our  ceaseless  pleasures  mar  ; 
For  sin  shall  be  forever  kept 

With  all  its  ills  afar. 
Unfading  beauty  then  shall  press 

Her  signet  on  each  brow, 
And  blooming  health  no  more  decay 

Like  fragile  flowers,  as  now. 

We  long  to  pluck  the  precious  fruit 

From  the  blest  tree  of  life, 
Whose  wondrous  leaves  forever  heal 

The  nations  of  their  strife. 
We  then  shall  feast  on  angels'  food, 

And  have  them  for  our  guests  ; 
For,  in  that  glorious  world  of  light, 

The  curse  no  longer  rests. 

All  tears  shall  then  be  wiped  away : 

Their  fountain  shall  be  dry  ; 
And  ne'er  in  secret  shall  be  known 

The  burden  of  a  sigh. 
All  doubts  and  gloomy  thoughts  shall  flee 

Like  leaves  before  the  wind, 
Nor  leave  the  faintest  shadow  there 

To  cloud  a  peaceful  mind. 


THE  BETTER  LAND.  91 

Unequalled  glories  there  shall  pass 

Before  our  constant  view, 
Which  shall  our  senses  never  tire, 

Because  forever  new. 
Each  beauteous  prospect  shall  conspire 

To  give  us  fresh  delight : 
Ear  hath  not  heard,  eye  hath  not  seen 

One-half  the  blissful  sight. 

We  long  to  gaze  on  the  new  earth, 

—  That  promised  "  better  land,"  — 
And,  with  immortal  honors  blest, 

Amid  its  wonders  stand. 
Then  let  me  end  my  journey  here, 

And  with  rejoicing  come 
To  claim  my  birthright  in  that  world,  — 

My  glorious  heavenly  home. 


92  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


THAT   GENTLE   VOICE. 

As  music  comes  at  eventide, 

On  fragrant  zephyrs  borne, 
Most  welcome  to  the  lonely  heart 

Oft  by  deep  sorrow  torn  ; 
So  grateful  comes  that  gentle  voice, 

Which  oft  my  sadness  quells, 
With  mellow  accents  soft  and  sweet, 

Like  chimes  from  silver  bells. 

That  gentle  voice  has  power  to  soothe 

When  troublous  thoughts  arise 
Like  secret  foes  to  mar  our  peace, 

And  dim  life's  sunniest  skies. 
Like  sunshine  on  the  summer  cloud, 

Their  shadows  briefly  last,  — 
A  few  bright  jewels  only  dropped 

As  tribute  to  the  past. 

When  weary  hours  in  dreaded  pain 

Make  up  the  sufferer's  lot ; 
When  earth's  fair  scenes  can  no  more  yield 

One  bright  forget-me-not, — 


THAT  GENTLE   VOICE.  93 

How  sweet  amid  surrounding  gloom 

To  hear  one  gentle  word, 
Which  kindest  sympathy  reveals, 

From  hearts  with  pity  stirred  ! 

Let  me  but  hear  some  kindly  words 

From  loving  hearts  and  true, 
Then  all  my  days  on  earth  are  blest, 

Though  chosen  friends  are  few  : 
Let  me  but  hear  a  gentle  voice, 

Which  no  sad  tidings  brings, 
Which  speaks  in  accents  soft  and  sweet, 

Of  pure  and  holy  things  ; 

Let  me  but  know  that  bright  flowers  bloom 

Around  my  pathway  still, 
Which  breathe  of  purity  and  truth, 

And  God's  most  righteous  will  ; 
Though  shadows  then  may  thickly  lower 

Around  my  tent  each  day, 
A  glorious  future,  far  more  bright, 

Shall  chase  my  night  away. 


94  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


A  TRIFLING  GIFT. 

A  TRIFLING  gift,  —  one  little  rose 

Just  bursting  into  bloom  ; 
For  such  the  little  stranger  was 

That  came,  with  sweet  perfume, 
To  cheer  me  in  my  loneliness, 

And  drive  sad  thoughts  away,  — 
A  foretaste  of  those  gardens  fair, 

Whose  blossoms  ne'er  decay. 

One  little  rose  !  and  yet  how  much 

This  welcome  gift  I  prize  ! 
No  golden  treasure  ever  seemed 

So  beauteous  to  my  eyes. 
The  kindly  tone  and  look  it  bore, 

To  other  charms  gave  birth, 
Enhancing,  as  they  clustered  there, 

Its  own  intrinsic  worth. 

How  oft  one  kind  and  gentle  word 
Will  peace  and  joy  impart, 

And  make  the  warmest  sunshine  glow 
Upon  the  saddest  heart  ! 


A    TRIFLING   GIFT.  95 

How  oft  one  trifling  gift  will  speak, 

Where  words  are  needed  not  ! 
The  heart  soon  learns  the  thought  to  read 

That  seeks  to  soothe  its  lot. 

Sweet  memories  linger  round  each  flower 

Which  friendship  ever  gave, 
A  holy  incense  floating  o'er 

Each  little  perfumed  grave. 
From  every  withered  leaf  and  bud 

Flows  forth  a  touching  strain, 
Till  voice  and  lute  in  memory's  ear 

Echo  the  soft  refrain. 

Still  come  to  me  in  all  your  pride, 

Ye  blushing  roses  bright ! 
Each  petal  can  a  page  unfold 

My  spirit  to  delight. 
I  joy  to  feel  your  presence  near, 

Surrounding  me  with  love, 
Like  holy  angels,  freely  sent 

With  blessings  from  above. 


96  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


THE    MARCH   OF   THE   FROST   KING. 

BRIGHT  are  the  colors  the  Frost  King  is  weaving 

Now  in  the  mantle  which  robes  all  the  trees  : 
Delicate  touches  his  ringers  are  leaving, 

Silently  kissed  by  the  cool  evening  breeze,  — 
Purple  and  orange  and  pale-tinted  yellow, 

Varied  with  meshes  of  bright  scarlet  shade, 
Green-tinted  borders  relieving  its  fellow, 

Skilfully  wrought  in  the  garment  now  made. 

From  a  light  groundwork  of  russet  is  gleaming 

Flickering  shadows  of  amber  and  gold, 
Which,  like  a  flame,  in  the  sunlight  is  beaming, 

Oft  as  his  robes  in  the  breezes  unfold. 
Silver-leafed  maples  and  ash-trees  are  glowing, 

Blushing  so  deeply  as  morning  steals  on, 
Oaks  all  their  various  beauties  are  showing, 

Smiling  as  if  all  their  glory  was  won. 

Now  through  the  woodlands  the  Frost  King  is  goin< 
Gathering  strength  for  a  final  display  ; 

Myriads  of  troops  to  his  standard  are  flowing, 
Eager  to  join  in  the  brilliant  array. 


MARCH  OF  THE  FROST  KING.  97 

Music,  though  pensive  and  mellow,  is  sounding, 
Floating  o'er  meadow,  o'er  valley  and  hill  ; 

Summer's  fair  soldiers  their  weapons  are  grounding, 
Ere  they  shall  sleep  by  the  ice-fettered  rill. 

Thus  we  move  onward  'mid  life's  changeful  battle, 

Shoulder  to  shoulder  through  earth's  busy  strife, 
Hearing  the  echoes  which  round  us  e'er  rattle, 

Always  attending  the  cares  of  this  life  ; 
But  let  us  whisper  kind  words  at  our  parting, 

Gladly  to  cheer  every  soul  on  his  way ; 
Strength  for  the  conflict  and  counsel  imparting 

While  in  the  valley  of  sorrow  we  stay. 

Changes  must  come  ;  for  the  leaves  are  now  falling , 

Shadows  bespeak,  too,  the  close  of  the  day  ; 
But  in  the  future  sweet  voices  are  calling, 

Angels  of  mercy  will  smile  on  our  way. 
Then,  when  our  warfare  is  peacefully  ended, 

—  Trouble  and  sorrow  and  trials  all  o'er,  — 
Contentment  and  joy  and  triumph  all  blended, 

Will  crown  us,  victorious  in  bliss,  evermore. 
9 


9 8  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


ON   RECEIVING   A   FRAMED    BOUQUET   OF 
AUTUMN    LEAVES. 


AUTUMN  leaves,  with  tints  all  glowing, 

As  they  fell  within  the  wood, 
Kindly  hands  have  brought,  bestowing, 

To  relieve  my  solitude. 

Through  fringed  eyelids  brightly  glancing, 
As  the  rain-drops  bathed  each  form, 

Once  these  children  frail  were  dancing 
To  the  music  of  the  storm  ; 

Smiling  as  their  glistening  faces 
Oft  were  kissed  by  sunshine  bright, 

Conscious  of  their  airy  graces, 

Which  they  knew  must  give  delight. 

Once  they  whispered  to  each  other 
In  the  moonlight  near  the  stream, 

As  pet  sisters  to  a  brother, 

When  they  know  life's  first  sweet  dream. 


AUTUMN  LEAVES.  99 

Now  they  lie  content,  reposing 

In  a  quiet,  long  embrace, 
While  I  read,  when  day  is  closing, 

Telltale  blushes  in  each  face. 

Now  perhaps  they  list  sweet  voices, 
Which  they  welcomed  by  the  shore, 

As  a  lover's  heart  rejoices 
To  recount  his  wooings  o'er. 

Let  them  rest  in  peaceful  slumbers, 

Let  each  know  blest  joys  again, 
While  fond  memory's  tablet  numbers 

Blessings  o'er  like  drops  of  rain. 

Let  them  smile  when  morning  greets  them, 

As  if  they  were  green  once  more, 
Sigh  when  a  mild  zephyr  meets  them, 

Whispering  some  sweet  secret  o'er. 

Dream,  dream  on  !  though  ne'er  waking, 

Though  each  smile  reveals  to-day 
That  I,  too,  these  scenes  forsaking, 

Like  you,  soon  must  pass  away. 


loo  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


WINTER   IS   COMING. 

COLD  winter  is  coming  !     His  heralds  proclaim 
Now  through  the  tall  forests  the  sound  of  his  name  : 
They  break  the  deep  silence  which  soothed  the  wild- 
flowers, 
Which  peeped  forth   in  sunshine  to  drink  the  warm 

showers, 

And  scatter  the  leaflets  with  wild,  sweeping  blast, 
Regardless  of  beauty,  or  scenes  of  the  past, 
When  through  the  green  wildwood  a  silvery  strain 
Repeated  its  echoes  again  and  again. 

The  fragrance  of  summer  has  gladdened  each  heart, 
And  visions  of  beauty  have  outrivalled  art ; 
Ripe  autumn  has  yielded  its  full  golden  sheaves, 
And  left  a  bright  smile  as  it  kissed  the  green  leaves  : 
But  each  sunny  hollow  and  vine-sheltered  spot, 
Linked  ever  to  joys  which  will  ne'er  be  forgot, 
Now  mourn  in  deep  solitude  ;  while  the  winds  play 
Their  dirge-like  refrain  at  the  close  of  each  day. 

O'er  hill-top  and  valley,  o'er  meadow  and  stream, 
The  dust  of  his  sandals  will  soon  brightly  gleam  ; 


WINTER  IS  COMING.  IOI 

And  crystals  will  dance  in  the  fresh  morning  light, 
With  diamond  lustre  as  pure  and  as  bright : 
While  trees  will  be  changed  into  grand  chandeliers, 
With  pendants  created  from  pure  jewelled  tears 
Which  the  Ice  King  shall  weep  in  the  cold  wintry  day 
While  viewing  his  palaces  wasting  away. 

In  the  cool,  frosty  air,  on  the  smooth  window-pane, 
Shall  beautiful  pictures  be  painted  again, 
And  mosses  and  ferns  in  young  forests  be  seen, 
Where  fairies    might   gambol    the    bright    leaves    be 
tween  ; 

Where  bowers  of  crystal  shall  sparkle  like  dew, 
And  blossoms  of  pearl  shall  delight  us  anew  ; 
While  garlands,  all  gleaming  with  silvery  light, 
Encircled  with  beauty,  shall  ravish  the  sight. 

Yes,  winter  is  coining :  and  sleigh-bells  will  chime 
With  glad,  merry  voices  at  bright  evening-time  ; 
And  the  song  of  the  skaters,  both  youthful  and  fair, 
Shall  strengthen  the  echoes  which  rend  the  cool  air  ; 
While  coasters  glide  clown  the  crystalline  steep, 
Delighting  to  sail  o'er  the  pure  wavy  deep 
Which  covers  the  meadows  and  valleys  like  foam, 
Congealed,  for  the  pleasure  of  schoolboys  at  home. 

But  round  glowing  fires  happy  circles  will  meet, 
Rejoicing  once  more  loved  companions  to  greet, 
Where  friendship's  appeal  shall  not  be  in  vain, 
And  the  words  of  pure  love  shall  be  spoken  again  ; 


102  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

While  each  shall  be  blest  in  the  welfare  of  others, 
And  unity  bind  closer  sisters  and  brothers, 
While  with  wine  of  contentment  the  pure  goblets  foam, 
As  each  shall  recount  the  true  pleasures  of  home. 

Cold  winter  is  coming  !     Oh,  think  of  the  poor 
When  the  Storm  Spirit  rages  around  your  own  door  ! 
Then  think  of  the  homeless  and  heart-stricken  one 
Who  finds  no  warm  hearth,  —  in  the  wide  world  alone. 
Then  God  will  reward  you  with  infinite  peace, 
And  your  measure  of  happiness  grandly  increase  ; 
For  'tis  through  our  acts  we  the  Father  adore, 
Who  leaves  to  our  mercy  the  outcast  and  poor. 


ANNETTE'S  BIRTHDAY.  103 


TO   ANNETTE    ON    HER    BIRTHDAY. 

ONCE  more  as  the  Sun,  with  his  rose-tinted  fingers, 
Opes  wide  his  blue  portals  on  time,  which  still  lingers, 
I  think  of  thy  birthday,  —  a  porter  still  keeping 
A  watch  for  its  dawning,  for  joy  or  for  weeping. 

A  few  gentle  summers  have  bloomed  for  thee  here, 
Like  dewdrops,  all  glistening  life's  morning  to  cheer: 
Youth's  roses  may  fade,  and  its  beauties  decay, 
But  a  jewel  enshrined  in  its  casket  will  stay. 

Though  shade  amid  sunshine  may  ofttimes  steal  on, 
Obscuring  the  peace  which  thy  virtues  have  won  ; 
Though  sorrows  may  sometimes  encompass  thy  way,  — 
Glad  spirits  will  banish  all  dark  clouds  away. 

This  life  is  a  garden,  where  flowers  oft  bloom 
But  to  drop  their  bright  petals  like  tears  o'er  our  tomb  : 
Sweet  bonds  may  be  severed,  and  friends  may  depart, 
But  memory's  signet  will  live  in  the  heart. 

As  the  glistening  stars,  those  bright  gems  of  the  night, 
Gain  their  radiant  glow  from  the  great  source  of  light, 


104  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

Even  so  may  thy  virtues  conspicuously  shine, 
With  a  glow  that  shall  borrow  a  lustre  divine. 

Raise  thy  standard  on  high  with  its  blazonry  bright ; 
Be  valiant  with  those  who  have  fought  the  good  fight : 
Then  angels  shall  guide,  through  sorrow  and  strife, 
To  the  conqueror's  crown  in  the  temple  of  life. 


THEN  LET  ME  HEAR   OF  HEAVEN.        105 


THEN    LET    ME   HEAR   OF    HEAVEN. 

WHEN  clouds  of  sorrow,  like  a  veil, 

Obscure  life's  sunniest  skies  ; 
When  boisterous  winds  my  bark  assail ; 

When  angry  waves  arise  ; 
When  tossed  amid  the  dashing  foam, 

My  hopes  are  almost  riven  ; 
When  crested  billows  speed  me  home,  — 

Then  let  me  hear  of  heaven. 

When  sailing  smoothly  o'er  the  tide, 

With  all  things  bright  above, 
With  chosen  friends  fast  by  my  side, 

Whose  hearts  are  warm  with  love ; 
When  Fortune  pours  with  bounteous  hand, 

And  gifts  most  sweet  are  given, 
When  pleasures  come  at  my  command,  — 

Then  let  me  hear  of  heaven. 

When  comes  the  twilight  of  my  days, 
Where  light  and  darkness  blend, 

Then  may  I  catch  those  glorious  rays 
Towards  which  my  footsteps  tend  ; 


106  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

And  when  life's  golden  sands  are  few  ; 

When  close  the  gates  of  even  ; 
When  to  earth's  scenes  I  bid  adieu,  — 

Then  let  me  hear  of  heaven. 

When,  free  from  every  earthly  ill, 

We  gain  the  heavenly  shore, 
Eternal  peace  our  hearts  to  fill, 

Increasing  evermore, — 
Sweet  rest  within  the  pearly  gates 

And  joy  supernal  given, 
There  for  the  weary  soul  awaits 

The  crownins:  bliss  of  heaven. 


,  *-^^-*  •> 


r~.>    .•'.-,   •.:••• 


SNOW-FLAKES.  107 


SNOW-FLAKES. 

STILL  falling,  falling,  falling  fast, 
These  messengers  have  come  at  last, 
Descending  through  the  chilly  air, 
On  softest  pinions  white  and  fair, 
Each  like  a  dove  with  downy  breast 
High  fluttering  o'er  its  icy  nest. 

Upon  the  pinions  of  the  blast, 
The  tiny  flakes  rush  wide  and  fast, 
Shutting  the  earth  at  winter's  night 
Beneath  its  coverlet  of  white, 
Keeping  the  germs  secure  and  warm 
From  the  rude  frost  and  chilling  storm. 

So  coming,  coming,  coming  still 

From  heaven  above,  rich  blessings  fill 

Life's  chalices  with  many  a  joy, 

Which  time's  cold  hand  can  ne'er  destroy, 

So  pure,  so  holy  at  their  birth, 

They  sweetly  charm  the  iljs  of  earth. 


Io8  IDYLS   OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

So,  gathered  round  our  toilsome  way, 
May  angel  footsteps  long  delay, 
To  cheer  a  weary,  burdened  heart, 
And  bid  the  saddest  clouds  depart,  — 
To  cause  the  soul,  in  hours  of  night, 
Behold  the  gleams  of  heavenly  light! 

Upon  my  heart,  when  lone  and  still, 
As  freely  may  pure  gifts  distil, 
Awakening  strains  of  perfect  peace, 
Whose  melody  shall  never  cease, 
Till,  far  beyond  the  reach  of  time, 
They  swell  heaven's  harmony  sublime. 


NO,  NEVER   GIVE   UP.  109 


NO,   NEVER   GIVE    UP. 

No,  never  give  up  while  the  land  is  in  view ; 

Though  stormy  thy  passage  through  life, 
Though  meagre  thy  fortune,  though  comforts  be  few, 

Endure  to  the  end  of  the  strife. 

No,  never  give  up  for  the  sake  of  repose, 
ThougL  conflicts  be  sometimes  severe  : 

No  rest  to  his  spirit  the  warrior  knows 
Till  victory  banishes  fear. 

No,  never  give  up,  though  oft  cheerless  earth  seem, 

Though  storms  of  affliction  may  riso ; 
For  soon  heaven's  bright  day  with  its  glory  shall  gleam, 

Revealing  blest  scenes  to  thine  eyes. 

No,  never  give  up  to  thy  foe  on  the  field, 
Though  valiant  and  strong  be  his  arm  : 

The  enemy  soon  to  the  Christian  must  yield, 
rrotectecl  through  grace  from  all  harm. 


no  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

No,  never  give  up,  though  the  contest  be  long : 

Thy  cause  is  the  cause  of  the  free. 
Fight  manfully,  boldly  :  then  sweeter  thy  song, 

Then  brighter  thy  laurels  will  be. 

Thy  Saviour  shall  aid  thee  in  time  of  distress, 

And  angels  administer  cheer  : 
If  courage  should  fail  thee  when  troubles  oppress, 

Then  help  shall  be  specially  near. 

Then  never  give  up  ;  for  the  land  is  in  view  : 

Life's  voyaging  will  shortly  be  o'er. 
A  haven  of  rest  with  the  faithful  and  true 

Shall  be  joyfully  thine  evermore. 


7 HE    1 WIN  SPIRITS. 


THE   TWIN   SPIRITS. 

WHEN  Morn  with  rosy  fingers  first 

Her  portals  opened  wide, — 
Through  which  the  messengers  of  light 

On  golden  pinions  glide,  — 
Within  the  shining  band  there  came 

Two  angel  forms  unseen, 
Commissioned  o'er  the  earth  to  roam, 

Each  like  a  fairy  queen. 

On  dewy  pavements  air  and  pure, 

As  on  a  jewelled  sea, 
With  noiseless  steps,  in  sandals  light. 

They  danced  in  sportive  glee. 
Ere  long  into  the  heart  they  flew, 

And  claimed  the  dwelling  fair, 
Before  deceit  its  walls  had  stained, 

Or  sin  had  trespassed  there. 

With  lips  of  purity  and  truth 
They  speak  of  heavenly  things, 

And  precious  treasures  ever  bear 
Upon  their  burdened  wings. 


112  ID  YLS   OF  STRA  WBERR  Y  BANK. 

Around  the  brow  of  innocence 
A  fragrant  wreath  they  twine, 

Upon  whose  leaves  the  dews  of  peace 
Like  brilliant  jewels  shine. 

They  set  their  seal  upon  each  heart, 

And  lock  blest  secrets  there, 
Where  sweetest  memories  lay  concealed, 

As  in  a  casket  fair. 
With  kindly  words  they  charm  the  ear, 

Which  breathe  of  peace  and  love, 
And  scatter  perfume  in  their  way, 

Which  tenderest  thoughts  can  move. 

When  deep  affliction  wounds  the  heart 

Oppressed  with  pains  and  cares, 
Then  Peace  extracts  the  stinging  thorn, 

And  choicest  balm  prepares. 
She  strikes  one  note  upon  her  lyre 

No  other  voice  can  sing, 
Which  makes  responses  in  the  heart 

Of  sweetest  echoing. 

As  sisters  fair,  joined  hand  in  hand, 

They  pause  at  Mercy's  gate  ; 
And  where  Contentment  spreads  her  board, 

They  at  her  table  wait. 
Sweet  flowers  bloom  along  their  way, 

With  every  charm  replete, 
Which  cause  full  many  a  heart  to  bow 

In  homage  at  their  feet. 


THE    TWIN  SPIRITS.  113 

Upon  her  tranquil,  queenly  brow 

Peace  plants  an  olive  wreath, 
And  in  her  sparkling  eyes  reveals 

A  well  of  joy  beneath. 
Love,  with  a  winning,  dimpled  smile, 

Twines  garlands  round  her  head, 
And  weaves  within  the  myrtle  boughs 

The  roses  white  and  red. 

Peace  offers  with  a  generous  hand 

Her  precious  treasures  fair, 
And  counsels  with  a  gracious  voice 

Most  welcome  everywhere. 
With  blushing  face  and  quiet  step 

Love  plays  a  modest  part ; 
And,  when  a  citadel  is  gained, 

She  proves  her  magic  art. 

Within  my  breast,  as  guardian  friends, 

May  they  content  abide, 
To  solace  me  with  words  of  bliss 

From  morn  till  eventide  ! 
And  when  the  lamp  of  life  burns  low, 

And  dimly  lights  my  way, 
To  cheer  me  in  my  homeward  path 

May  these  blest  spirits  stay  ! 


H4  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


AUTUMN   WINDS. 

AUTUMNAL  winds  with  plaintive  strains 

Disturb  the  trembling  trees, 
Which  welcomed  on  the  verdant  plain 

Each  gentle  summer  breeze  ; 
For  blushes  o'er  them  slowly  steal, 

When  their  cold  breath  comes  near, 
Which  all  their  wounded  pride  reveal, 

But  still  to  us  as  dear. 

As  the  low  murmurs  float  along 

O 

O'er  meadow,  field,  and  wood, 
Each  bears  the  burden  of  a  song 

In  quite  a  thoughtful  mood. 
Each  tender  form  then  bows  its  head, 

And  weeps  bright  tears  of  dew, 
Beneath  those  leafy  boughs  outspread 

Which  once  their  glory  knew. 

In  each  cool  wind  an  undertone 

Long  vibrates  on  the  ear, 
Which  has  a  cadence  all  its  own, 

Distinct  and  ever  clear, 


AUTUMN   WINDS.  115 

Which  speaks  of  joys  forever  fled,  — 

Of  scenes  forever  past ; 
Time's  chariot  on.  its  course  has  sped, 

'Neath  shadows  overcast. 

We  grieve  to  part  with  Nature's  pride.  — 

Green  leaves  and  fragrant  flowers, 
Which,  like  dear  friends,  grew  near  our  side 

To  cheer  the  summer  hours, 
—  Those  halcyon  moments  gladly  spent 

In  childhood's  rosy  dawn,  — 
Those  golden  links  to  memory  lent, 

Till  life's  last  sands  are  gone. 

And  yet  how  beautiful  they  seem 

To  court  the  frosty  air  ! 
As  if  they  found,  in  pleasing  dream, 

Some  fairy  dwelling  there, 
Wiiose  gentle  whispers  breathed  at  night, 

So  charm  with  secret  power, 
That  gorgeous  tints  speak  their  delight, 

When  dawns  the  morning  hour. 

Though  hopes  may  fail  like  withered  leaves, 

And  dirge-like  music  float 
Upon  the  wings  of  every  breeze, 

With  many  a  solemn  note  ; 
Yet  though  the  seasons  pass  away, 

And  mark  the  year's  decline, 
It  nearer  brings  the  perfect  day, 

Which  makes  heaven's  glories  thine. 


Il6  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


MAY. 

ONCE  more  the  fragrant  breath  of  spring 

Speaks  kindly  unto  me, 
Though  emerald  twigs  and  opening  buds 

No  more  with  joy  I  see  ; 
But  well  I  know  a  snowy  cloud 

Of  blossoms  decks  the  trees, 
Inviting  with  mellifluous  sweets 

Gay  birds  and  honey-bees. 

The  dimpled  brooks,  long  held  in  chains 

By  winter's  icy  hand, 
Now  speak  their  joy  with  native  grace, 

Which  we  may  not  withstand  ; 
And  flowers  nod  upon  the  banks, 

Kissed  by  the  laughing  stream, 
As  if  to  greet  upon  its  face 

Each  golden,  sunny  beam. 

A  choral  anthem  floats  along, 
O'er  meadow,  field,  and  wood, 

Enlivening  with  melodious  strains 
The  deepest  solitude, 


MA  V.  117 

Where  violets  profusely  bloom 

Within  each  mossy  dell, 
And  woo  warm  sunshine  through  the  leaves, 

Which  speak  their  praises  well. 

I  love  to  think  of  the  new  life 

Which  decks  the  stately  trees, 
And  list  the  song  they  ever  sing, 

Fanned  by  the  vernal  breeze. 
I  love  to  read  upon  each  leaf 

This  sacred,  precious  truth  : 
Though  we  must  die,  there  yet  remains 

A  blest  eternal  youth. 

A  genial  glow  my  pulse  now  thrills 

While  musing  on  the  scene  j 
A  holy  charm  pervades  my  heart 

With  purest  thoughts  serene  : 
For  in  each  leaf  and  opening  bud 

A  higher  life  we  trace  ; 
Our  drooping  forms  shall  be  revived, 

And  crowned  with  heavenly  grace. 

He  who  now  dots  the  landscape  o'er 

With  flowers  pure  and  fair 
Smiles  ever  on  his  children  here, 

And  makes  us  all  his  care  ;  . , 

And  when  our  mission  is  fulfilled, 

Each  earthly  fetter  riven, 
For  us  within  the  pearly  gates 

Shall  bloom  a  spring  in  heaven. 


Ii8  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


ON    RECEIVING   MY  FIRST   BOUQUET. 

How  pleasant  are  the  gifts  which  come 

From  Friendship's  loving  hands  ! 
They  breathe  an  influence  pure  and  sweet, 

Which  all  my  praise  commands. 
Like  messengers  of  good,  they  charm 

My  burdened  thoughts  away, 
And  bid  me  muse  on  brighter  scenes, 

Whose  beauties  ne'er  decay. 

Methinks  I  see  the  welcome  beams 

Of  sunny,  golden  light 
Play  round  their  tinted  velvet  leaves, 

To  cheer  my  wondering  sight. 
Methinks  I  hear  the  words  they  breathe 

In  choicest  perfumes  rise, 
—  A  grateful  offering,  ever  pure,  — 

In  anthems  to  the  skies. 

These  spotless  lilies  white  and  fair, 

Which  in  the  valley  grew, 
Proclaim  a  glory  all  their  own  • 

Which  royalty  ne'er  knew. 


MY  FIKST  BOUQUET.  119 

From  out  their  drooping  snowy  bells 

A  sweet  tone  seems  to  come,  — 
A  faint  vibration  of  that  song 

Which  graced  their  Eden  home. 

They  speak  of  faith  and  hope  to  me, 

Though  in  an  humble  sphere, 
And  bid  me  trust  a  Father's  hand, 

Which  will  protect  us  here  ; 
For  He  who  makes  these  fragile  forms 

The  object  of  his  care 
Will  surely  let  me,  poor  and  weak, 

Rejoice  his  love  to  share. 


120  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


THE   CLOVER-BLOSSOM. 

"  BEFORE  the  summer  was  quite  over," 

As  fragrant  as  a  flower  in  May, 
I  found  the  little  sprig  of  clover 

Within  your  note  received  to-day. 
It  spoke  of  one  whose  heart  can  tell 

How  best  to  cheer  one  in  distress, 
Whose  generous  deeds  I  cherish  well,  — 

May  I  this  simple  truth  confess  ? 

'Tis  but  a  trifling  act  to  give 

A  bud  or  leaf  or  smiling  flower  ; 
And  yet  how  many  kind  thoughts  live 

Deep  in  our  hearts,  born  that  same  hour 
When  kindly  Sympathy  extends 

Her  genial  influence  to  cheer,  — 
When  smile  with  heartfelt  pity  blends, 

So  that  each  word  seems  doubly  dear ! 

Oh,  yes  !  I  knew  your  "  gift  was  small ; " 
But  as  a  "  token  "  true  it  came, 

Which  made  me  many  deeds  recall 
Which  e'er  will  be  unknown  to  fame  : 


THE   CLOVER-BLOSSOM.  121 

And  yet  when  in  the  silent  hours 
I  number  friends  and  mercies  o'er, 

Then  will  sweet  buds  and  scented  flowers 
Remind  me  of  thyself  the  more. 

How  many  a  sweet  "  forget-me-not  " 

Is  planted  in  the  heart  by  those 
Who  think,  as  from  a  garden-plot, 

They  only  bring  a  blooming  rose  ! 
When,  nestling  in  its  dewy  leaves 

Are  fairy  children,  who  can  tell 
When  best  to  loose  their  fragrant  sheaves, 

In  which  kind  thoughts  are  treasured  well. 


122  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


FRIENDSHIP'S   OFFERING. 

"  LILIES  of  the  valley  "  fair, 
Objects  of  your  guardian  care, 

Wet  with  morning  dew, 
Bid  my  muse  with  pleasure  sing, 
Bending  o'er  the  offering, 

As  I  think  of  you. 

Strangers  from  their  native  beds, 
Now  they  hang  their  drooping  heads, 

As  I  list  to  hear 
What  kind  messages  they  bear, 
From  a  heart  so  free  from  care, 

To  my  willing  ear. 

Lurk  there  here  in  snowy  bell 
Fairies  who  sweet  things  can  tell 

To  a  lonely  heart  ? 

Who,  with  noiseless  speech,  can  bear 
Pleasant  sounds  for  me  to  hear, 

Which  can  joy  impart  ? 


FRIENDSHIP'S   OFFERING.  123 

On  swift  pinions,  fair  and  white, 
Can  they,  to  my  own  delight, 

Bring  me  sweet  content, 
Though  but  fragrance  they  convey, 
Whispering  softly  through  the  day 

Words  by  kindness  sent  ? 

Honeysuckles,  white  and  red, 
Yield  their  perfume  round  my  bed 

In  the  days  of  May, 
Culled  by  thee,  that  I  might  know 
How  the  lovely  flowers  grow 

Where  the  blossoms  stay. 

Sympathy  so  good  and  true, 
Ever  to  the  sufferer  new, 

Here  is  gladly  found  ; 
Breathing  out  like  odors  rare, 
Filling  all  the  quiet  air, 

Charming  all  around. 

All  good  gifts  are  "  from  above," 
Messengers  of  tender  love 

For  our  pleasure  given  ; 
Redolent  with  choice  perfume,  — 
Stars  which  sorrow's  night  illume, 

Winning  us  to  heaven. 

Flowers  to  me  are  ever  dear, 
Welcome  all  the  blooming  year, 
For  their  sake  alone  ; 


124  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

But  when  friendship's  hand  conveys 
Such  pure  gifts  on  sunny  days, 
Then  more  prized  to  own. 

May  I  ever  grateful  see, 

In  each  kindness  shown  to  me, 

That  benignant  care 
Which  adorns  the  meads  and  bowers, 
Giving  sunshine  and  warm  showers 

To  the  lilies  fair  ! 

May  I,  in  my  darkened  room, 

Find  true  friends  to  chase  the  gloom 

With  kind  words  of  peace, 
Borne  to  me  on  lips  of  flowers, 
Till  I  find  in  Eden's  bowers 

My  own  sweet  release  ! 


SPRANG  IS  COMING.  125 


SPRING   IS   COMING. 

GENIAL  spring  once  more  is  coming ; 
And  the  bees  will  soon  be  humming 

Round  the  scented  thyme  : 
Now  amid  the  mosses  sleeping, 
Purple  eyes  will  soon  be  peeping 

In  their  beauteous  prime. 

All  along  the  meadows  teeming, 
Like  bright  stars  in  valleys  gleaming, 

Golden  flowers  shall  bloom, 
Welcoming  each  sunny  ray, 
Which  around  their  leaves  shall  play, 

And  their  crowns  illume. 

Birdl ings  from  the  Southern  clime, 
Glad  to  hail  this  pleasant  time, 

Now  in  crowds  appear, 
And  in  all  the  forest  bowers, 
Charming  all  the  morning  hours, 

Carol  sweet  and  clear. 
ii* 


126  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

Flowers  fair  in  meads  reposing, 
As  the  wintry  months  are  closing, 

Long  once  more  to  bloom 
With  the  dewdrops  on  them  lying, 
While  the  morning  breeze  is  sighing 

No  more  o'er  their  tomb. 

Streamlets  through  green  valleys  flowing, 
All  their  joy  and  beauty  showing, 

Sparkling  clear  and  bright, 
Dance  along  where  banks  of  flowers 
Soon  shall  bless  the  summer  hours 

In  the  warm  sunlight. 

Fragrance  through  the  soft  air  stealing, 
Unseen  treasures  fast  revealing 

From  the  blooming  trees, 
Soon  shall  charm  the  rosy  morning, 
Beautified  with  fresh  adorning, 

Lading  every  breeze. 

Let  all,  in  these  pleasant  hours, 
Wander  in  the  woodland  bowers 

In  the  morning  light  ; 
Seeking  health  and  strength  and  pleasure, 
Thanking  God  for  ever)7  treasure 

That  can  cheer  the  sight. 


MY  JUNE  ROSE.  127 


MY  JUNE   ROSE. 

'Mm  the  warbling  of  birds  and  the  breath  of  sweet 

flowers, 

Smiling  June,  like  a  fairy,  has  entered  her  bowers, 
With  her  sandals  all  sparkling  with  jewels  of  light, 
Which  had  crowned  sleeping  violets  through  the 

still  night, 

And  now  scatters  her  gifts  from  her  bountiful  quiver 
O'er  the  emerald  banks  of  our  swift-flowing  river, 
Bidding  woodland  and  meadow  and  dingle  to  smile ; 
While  I,  as  her  lover,  am  happy  the  while. 

A  rose  deeply  blushing  she  offered  to  me, 

Exhaling  its  sweetness  deliciously  free, 

Whose  velvety  petals  seemed  plainly  to  say, 

"  Praise  God  for  pure  flowers  this  bright  summer 

day  : 

For  his  goodness  has  made  us  both  graceful  and  sweet, 
With  purest  of  pleasures  thy  senses  to  greet ; 
And  He  who  now  crowns  us  with  beauty  anew 
Will  surely  extend  loving  care  over  you. 


128  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

"  Our  delicate  buds  are  the  work  of  his  hand, 
Though  unseen,  oft  we  bloom  in  a  lone,  distant  land ; 
But  our  praises  in  perfume  ascend  to  the  skies, 
And  blessings  of  dew  are  his  bounteous  replies." 
So  let  your  heart's  offerings  freely  ascend 
To    Him  who   has   called   himself    "  Father "    and 

"  Friend  ; " 

And  He  who  adorns  both  the  lily  and  rose, 
'Mid  showers  of  blessings,  will  give  thee  repose. 

Should  the  Storm  King  of  sorrow  and  trial  pass  by, 

And  clouds  of  adversity  darken  thy  sky  ; 

Should  thy  heart  bend  to  earth,  as  if  all  hope  had 

fled, 
As   the    rose    'neath   the   blast   bows   its    beautiful 

head, — 

Then  remember  the  "  angel  of  peace  "  smiles  again  ; 
That  sunshine  is  brighter  succeeding  the  rain  ; 
That  the  rainbow  of  hope  will  soon  span  the  blue 

sky; 
That  faith  ever  triumphs,  and  love  cannot  die. 


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MIGHT  BEFORE  DAY.  129 


NIGHT  BEFORE   DAY. 

LIFE  has  its  cares  and  sadness, 
Its  sorrows  and  its  tears  : 

It  knows  sweet  hours  of  gladness, 
Imbittered  by  no  fears. 

Dark  shadows  vanish  early 

Before  the  radiant  morn, 
When  dewdrops  pure  and  pearly 

Proclaim  fresh  beauty  born. 

Then  let  not  hearts  grow  weary, 
Nor  hope  be  waning  soon  ; 

For  morn,  though  sometimes  dreary, 
Precedes  a  dazzling  noon. 


130  ID  YLS  OF  STRA  WBERR  Y  BANK. 


OCTOBER. 

AUTUMN,  with  her  blushing  face, 
Greets  us  now  with  modest  grace, 
Like  a  maid  whose  heart  is  stirred 
When  the  voice  of  love  is  heard. 
Summer's  smiles  had  power  to  win, 
Sunny  as  it  e'er  had  been, 
And  bright  flowers  accorded  well 
Silently  kind  thoughts  to  tell. 

Richly  dressed  in  gay  attire, 
Which  must  needs  our  praise  inspire 
Varied  with  both  light  and  shade, 
Like  a  robe  of  rainbows  made,  — 
Now  she  comes,  a  fairy  queen, 
O'er  the  hills  and  meadows  green  ; 
While  on  each  succeeding  day 
Steps  of  beauty  mark  her  way  : 

Tasselled  corn  whose  golden  ears 
Glow  as  her  bright  car  appears, 
Glad  to  feel  her  magic  wand, 
As  in  marshalled  ranks  they  stand  ; 


OCTOBER.  13 x 

While  the  sheaves  of  ripening  grain, 
Scattered  o'er  the  bounteous  plain, 
Bow  their  heads  with  reverent  air, 
Proud  her  welcome  smiles  to  share  : 

Trellised  vines  along  the  wall 
Quickly  heed  her  gentle  call, 
And  reveal  their  purple  store 
Just  enough  to  tempt  the  more  ; 
While  the  orchard's  generous  pride 
Greets  her  with  its  juicy  tide, 
Peeping  from  a  russet  screen, 
Joying  thus  to  grace  the  scene. 

Could  we,  like  the  mountain  trees, 
Know  what  words  she  spoke  to  these, 
As  a  trembling  leaf  she  kissed 
On  its  bed  of  amethyst, 
We  might  tell,  though  high  and  great, 
All  must  find  a  lowly  state 
When  earth's  pleasures  fade  away 
At  the  close  of  life's  short  day. 

Could  we  know  her  parting  word, 
Which  the  rustling  leaflet  stirred, 
We  might  tell,  though  all  must  die 
When  death's  chilling  winds  come  nigh, 
That  again  in  lovelier  bloom, 
Rising  from  the  silent  tomb, 
We  shall  find  a  glorious  home, 
Where  dread  change  can  never  come. 


132  IDYLS  0A  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


A   MINISTERING   SPIRIT. 

AN  angel  from  the  realms  of  light 
Once  crossed  my  path  in  sorrow's  night, 
Who  lingered  till  the  break  of  day, 
Content  to  wipe  my  tears  away, 
And  bring  blest  sunshine  to  my  heart, 
Causing  the  clouds  of  grief  to  part. 

In  earthly  garb  the  "  stranger  "  came, 
Unheard  her  voice,  unknown  her  name  ; 
But  there  was  something  in  her  eye 
Which  spoke  her  mission  from  on  high,  - 
To  comfort  an  afflicted  soul, 
O'er  whom  deep  billows  often  roll. 

I  might  have  thought  her  home  below. 
For  thus  her  form  would  seem  to  show ; 
But  as  she  turned  her  to  depart, 
Bequeathing  blessings  on  my  heart, 
E'en  while  I  mused  on  heavenly  things, 
I  thought  I  saw  her  folded  win^s. 


A   MINISTERING  SPIRIT.  133 

Sweet  memories  long  linger  where 

Earth's  sunny  spots  seem  bright  and  fair, 

And  gratitude  our  bosoms  fill, 

Though  words  be  few  and  thoughts  be  still  ; 

But  give  me  sight  to  plainly  see 

When  amzel  hands  shall  wait  on  me. 


134  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


ON   A    DEWDROP. 

DEWDROP  trembling  in  the  sun, 

Like  a  tiny  world  of  light, 
Sparkling  on  thy  emerald  bed, 

.Like  a  diamond  pure  and  bright, 
Let  me  in  thy  bosom  trace 

Proofs  of  wisdom,  love,  and  power, 
As  so  skilfully  displayed 

In  the  richly-tinted  flower. 

Let  me  view  those  gorgeous  shades 

Playing  round  thy  jewelled  form, 
Like  fair  rainbows,  azure  set, 

When  has  passed  the  summer  storm. 
Into  thy  clear  depths  I  gaze, 

Seeking  out  some  fairy  fair, 
Who  with  magic  wand  might  paint 

Such  celestial  colors  there, 

Ocean  deep  for  tiny  ships, 
Floating  o'er  its  crystal  tide, 

Or  upon  its  billows  tossed, 
As  to  distant  ports  they  glide. 


ON  A    DEWDROP.  135 

Myriads  there  in  silent  state, 

Live  as  'twere  the  only  home 
Where  true  pleasure  did  await, 

Or  glad  sunshine  e'er  could  come. 

Myriad  stars  we  o'er  us  see, 

Sparkling  with  their  mellow  light, 
Like  gems  wrought  in  mystery, 

Dropped  by  angel  hands  at  night. 
Most  sublime  the  prospect  is, 

When  these  distant  worlds  we  view ; 
But  the  hand  that  fashioned  them 

Also  formed  a  drop  of  dew. 


1 36  ID  YLS  OF  S  TRA  WBERR  Y  BANK. 


THE   BREATH    OF   JUNE. 

THROUGH  my  open  casement  stealing, 

Comes  the  breath  of  bud  and  bloom,  - 
Welcome  charms  to  me  revealing, 

Redolent  with  rich  perfume. 
Summer  winds,  most  softly  sighing 

Through  the  bursting  blossoms  near, 
Bear  the  whispers  of  the  dying 

To  my  lonely,  listening  ear. 

Verdant  meads,  in  peace  reposing 

By  a  gently-flowing  stream, 
When  the  weary  day  is  closing, 

Charm  me  like  a  fairy  dream  ; 
To  the  evening  breeze  bequeathing 

Gifts  which  I  would  not  resign,  — 
Grateful  odors  kindly  breathing, 

As  the  twilight  hours  decline. 

Where  bright  flowers  are  gayly  growing, 
Pleasing  every  sparkling  eye, 

There  would  I,  my  praise  bestowing, 
Joy  with  them  to  look  on  high. 


THE  BREATH  OF  JUNE.  137 

Murmuring  woodlands,  ever  ringing 

With  the  song  of  many  a  bird, 
To  my  solitude  are  bringing 

Sounds  which  oft  my  heart  have  stirred. 

When  the  lonely  hours  are  dreary, 

And  no  voice  disturbs  the  gloom, 
When  distressed  and  worn  and  weary, 

Then  sweet  flowers  can  cheer  my  room. 
In  the  stilly  night  may  linger 

By  our  side  some  angel  form, 
Wrho  may  write,  with  magic  finger, 

Words  which  a  sad  heart  may  warm. 

Oh  for  those  once  happy  hours 

When  my  heart  and  steps  were  light ; 
When  I  roamed  among  the  flowers, 

Finding  there  a  pure  delight  ! 
But  these  days  of  pain  and  sorrow 

Soon  will  pass  with  all  their  gloom  : 
Soon  a  blissful,  bright  to-morrow 

Shall  arise  beyond  the  tomb. 


138  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


MOONLIGHT   EVENINGS. 

I  LOVE  the  moonlight  evenings, 

So  beautiful  and  fair, 
When  scented  leaves  and  blossoms 

Perfume  the  quiet  air  : 
I  love  the  welcome  stillness 

These  tranquil  seasons  bring 
To  care-worn,  weary  pilgrims, 

When  time  is  on  the  wing. 

I  love  the  pleasant  moonlight,  — 

Its  silver  rays  intwined 
With  golden  threads  of  sunshine, 

Which  daylight  has  resigned  : 
I  love  the  mellow  radiance 

It  scatters  all  around,  — • 
Its  shaded  mantle  hanging 

Where  quiet  nooks  are  found. 

I  love  to  see  the  glory 

Shine  through  the  veil  above, 
Spread  o'er  us  like  the  pinions 

Of  a  protecting  dove  ; 


MOONLIGH7  EVENINGS. 

Where,  in  my  steady  gazing, 

I  think  I  almost  see 
Some  seraph  in  his  beauty 

With  blessing  smile  on  me. 

I  love  these  pleasant  moments, 

So  freely  to  us  given, 
When  wandering  thoughts  collected 

May  rest  intent  on  heaven  ; 
When,  in  a  close  communion 

With  blooming  Nature  round, 
Our  hearts'  most  grateful  praises 

Like  incense  may  be  found. 

Sweet  memories  always  linger 

Around  such  happy  hours, 
As  welcome  to  our  feelings 

As  dewdrops  to  the  flowers. 
How  often  on  life's  journey 

Bright  waymarks  we  behold, 
Where  pleasant  moonlight  evenings 

Can  sweetest  thoughts  unfold  ! 


'39 


140  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


THE   SPRINGING   GRASS. 

SLOWLY,  surely,  still  increasing, 

Springs  the  fresh  and  tender  grass 
To  fulfil  its  generous  mission 

While  the  rosy  months  may  pass  ; 
Painting  all  the  lawns  and  meadows 

With  a  lovely  emerald  hue, 
Skirting  all  the  murmuring  woodlands, 

Which  would  share  its  beauty  too. 

Violets  with  purple  eyelids 

Nestle  in  the  mossy  bed, 
Peeping  out  with  smiles  so  winning 

At  the  azure  clouds  o'erhead. 
Wild-flowers  bloom  amid  the  valleys, 

Where  the  echoing  streamlets  glide, 
Weaving  shades  within  earth's  carpet 

Which  no  artist's  hands  have  dyed. 

Beauty  reigns  all  o'er  the  landscape, 
With  her  new-born  charms  replete  ; 

While  we  gaze  with  holy  feelings, 
As  she  walks  with  virgin  feet 


THE  SPRINGING  GRASS.  141 

Through  the  dells  and  up  the  hillsides, 

By  the  river's  sparkling  tide, 
Dropping  flowers  to  mark  her  footsteps, 

With  .the  purest  thoughts  allied. 

As  the  tender  grass  is  springing, 

Silently  thus  blessing  all, 
Causing  those  new  charms  and  pleasures 

Which  fond  memories  must  recall, 
May  that  hand  that  paints  the  landscape, 

Humbling  all  man's  boasted  art, 
Write  e'en  with  a  golden  sunbeam 

Living  truths  upon  our  heart ! 

Casting  off  the  chains  that  bound  them, 

All  the  tiny  buds  of  spring 
Smile  to  greet  the  blessed  sunshine, 

Which  to  them  new  life  will  bring. 
Even  so,  still  patient  waiting, 

Gazing  upward  to  the  sky, 
May  we  hail  that  welcome  springtime 

Which  shall  dawn  when  grief  shall  die  ! 


142  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


OH,   SPEAK  TO   ME   KINDLY! 

OH,  speak  to  me  kindly  ! 
When  through  each  long  and  weary  day, 

Imprisoned  in  the  gloom, 
I  have  no  gifts  of  blooming  May, 

Of  June  no  sweet  perfume, 
Then  a  kind  spoken  word  can  soon  bring  one  glad 

cheer, 

Like  the  sweetest  of  incense  on  zephyrs  brought  near. 
Speak  to  me  kindly  ! 

Oh,  speak  to  me  gently  ! 
For  deep  within  the  heart  may  lie 

The  bitter  springs  of  grief, 
Which  need  the  light  of  heaven's  fair  sky 

To  bring  a  sweet  relief ; 

And  a  kind,  gentle  word  will  oft  strengthen  my  heart, 
Bidding  sorrow  and  sadness  most  quickly  depart. 
Speak  to  me  gently  ! 

Speak  cheerfully  to  me  ! 
When  on  my  burdened  spirits  fall 
Some  dark  and  lowering  clouds. 


OH,  SPEAK  TO  MR  KINDLY!  143 

Which  with  portentous  ills  appall 

In  unrelenting  crowds, 

Then  a  glad,  joyous  tone  with  sweet  music  can  cheer, 
Like    strains   from   heaven's   own   portals   brought 

near. 
Speak  cheerfully  to  me  ! 

Speak  lovingly  to  me  ! 
Such  holy  words  fall  on  my  ear, 

From  lips  sincere  and  true, 
As  welcome  as  bright  flowers  appear 

To  greet  the  crystal  dew  ; 

For  the  richest  of  gifts  are  the  offerings  of  love, 
E'er  distilling  unseen  from  their  fountain  above. 
Speak  lovingly  to  me  ! 

Speak  hopefully  to  me  ! 
Oh,  tell  of  rest  above  the  gloom, 
Within  the  heavenly  home,  — 
Of  wondrous  bliss  beyond  the  tomb, 

Where  sorrow  ne'er  can  come  ! 
Oh,  tell  me  of  beauty,  where  glories  unfold, 
Immortal,  unchanging,  through  ages  untold  ! 
Speak  hopefully  to  me  ! 


144  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


COME   TO   THE   WOODS. 

COME  with  me  to  the  fragrant  woods 

When  skies  are  bright  and  fair, 
And,  in  the  depths  of  their  solitudes, 

Forget  thy  toils  and  care. 

Come  stand  with  me  'neath  the  whispering  pine, 

And  gather  sweet  leaves  of  fern  ; 
And  on  the  hillocks  of  green  recline, 

And  drink  from  Nature's  urn. 

Come  list  with  me  to  the  wild  bird's  notes, 

As  to  his  mate  he  calls ; 
While  silvery  music  in  silence  floats, 

As  if  in  echoing  halls. 

Sit  near  the  bank  of  the  rippling  stream, 

Which  gayly  glides  along 
Where  golden  rays  of  warm  sunshine  gleam, 

And  dance  to  the  wavelet's  song. 

Inhale  the  cooling  and  perfumed  air 

Within  the  mossy  dell, 
Where  flowerets  nestle  contented  there, 

Their  own  sweet  words  to  tell. 


COME    TO    THE    WOODS.  145 

Commune  with  Nature,  and  humbly  bow 

Beneath  this  leafy  dome, 
And  hear  the  voices  she  utters  now, 

Before  thy  footsteps  roam. 

God  speaketh  by  the  whispering  leaf 

And  in  the  laughing  rill, 
In  perfumes  which  bright  flowers  bequeath 

And  silently  distil. 

A  "  still,  small  voice  "  is  most  distinct 

Within  a  forest  bower, 
Which  holy  thrills  of  joy  can  stir 

By  their  transforming  power. 

Let  all  behold  the  proofs  of  love 

With  warmest  gratitude, 
And  clasp  the  hand  which  leads  above. 

Mid  deepest  solitude. 


146  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY    BANK. 


THE   MORNING   SHOWER. 

ONCE  more  the  burning  eye  of  day 
Peeps  through  the  gates  of  morn  ; 

While  lurid  beams  of  mellow  light 
The  lowering  skies  adorn. 

No  joyous  songs  of  tuneful  birds 

Come  from  the  silent  woods, 
And  cooling  winds  fold  up  their  wings 

In  deepest  solitudes. 

No  breath  disturbs  the  hanging  vines, 

Nor  stirs  the  bending  grain  ; 
And  drooping  flowerets  sadly  pine 

For  cool,  refreshing  rain. 

The  murmuring  streams,  with  plaintive  strains, 

The  general  burden  share  ; 
All  Nature  seems  in  silence  hushed, 

As  if  in  sacred  prayer. 


THE   MORNING  SHOWER.  147 

The  stillness  breaks  :  the  fluttering  leaves 

Proclaim  the  signs  of  rain, 
And  whisper  from  the  topmost  boughs 

The  welcome  news  again. 

The  burdened  clouds,  with  generous  hand, 

Unlock  their  treasures  fast ; 
And  thirsty  earth,  with  parching  lips, 

Receives  the  boon  at  last. 

Then  smile,  with  dewy,  sparkling  eye, 

Fair  children  of  the  wood ; 
And  dripping  lilies  bow  their  heads 

With  tears  of  gratitude. 

Bright,  sunny  skies  smile  lovingly 

O'er  all  the  meadows  green  ; 
And  dimpled  brooks  and  laughing  rills 

Rejoice  to  grace  the  scene. 

The  emerald  twigs  are  thickly  strung 

With  beads  of  silver  light, 
In  which  a  thousand  rainbows  blend, 

And  cheer  the  wondering  sight. 

Sweet  odors  from  the  spicy  groves 

Pervade  the  cool,  soft  air,  — 
An  offering  sweet  from  thousand  lips, 

Which  breathe  pure  praises  there. 


148  IDYLS  OP  SRAWBERRY  BANK. 

High  o'er  the  east,  in  loveliness, 
The  bow  of  promise  bends  : 

God's  signet  borne  upon  the  clouds, 
That  sweet  assurance  lends. 

So,  when  dark  clouds  of  sorrow  hide 
Life's  fairest,  sunniest  shine, 

Let  faith,  upon  the  misty  veil, 
Behold  the  hand  divine, 


"/  PITY  YOUln  149 


"I    PITY   YOU  !" 

"  I  PITY  you  !  "     Oh,  the  sweet,  kindly  word 
Which  I  in  the  depths  of  my  great  sorrow  heard 

One  weary  day  ! 

It  fell  on  my  heart  like  the  whisperings  of  peace, 
Whose  echoing  notes  will  not  speedily  cease, 

Nor  fade  away. 

Were  I  estranged  from  my  beautiful  home, 
Where  affectionate  words  could  not  speedily  come 

To  cheer  my  heart ; 

How  would  such  accents,  in  sweet,  quiet  dreams, 
Dropped  on  my  ear  like  bright  golden  beams, 

Bid  grief  depart  ! 

'Twas  a  token  of  friendship,  both  cheering  and  good, 
To  comfort  the  feeble  in  deep  solitude, 

When  all  alone  : 

Like  sweet  music  vibrating  on  memory's  ear, 
It  will  cheer  me  in  sadness  when  trials  are  near, 

When  friends  have  flown. 
13* 


150  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


THE    LAST   GOOD-BY. 

WHEN  cherished  friends  beside  us  stand, 
And  warmly  grasp  the  parting  hand, 
With  trembling  voice  and  tearful  eye, 
We  scarce  can  speak  the  last  "  Goocl-by." 


What  grief  and  sadness  fill  the  heart 
When  with  true  friends  we  have  to  part  : 
A  vacancy  so  lone  and  drear 
Can  but  provoke  the  sorrowing  tear. 


There  is  a  world  forever  bright, 
Where  pleasures  bloom  in  holy  light, 
Which  never  with  their  fragrance  bring 
Sad  ills  at  last,  like  thorns,  to  sting. 


There  is  a  land  where  fadeless  flowers 
Perpetual  grow  in  sacred  bowers, 
Whose  charms  forever  give  delight, 
With  nought  combined  to  grieve  the  sight. 


THE  LAST  GOOD- BY.  151 

There  is  a  home  where  angel  choirs 
Attune  their  songs  to  golden  lyres  ; 
Where  discord's  hand  has  ne'er  been  given 
To  rudely  sweep  the  keys  of  heaven. 

There  all  is  perfect,  pure,  and  free,  — 
All  good  to  seize,  no  ill  to  flee  ; 
And  every  scene  new  joys  shall  bring 
To  make  the  heart  for  gladness  sing. 

There  friendship's  sweetest  bond  shall  reign 
Supreme  through  all  the  happy  train ; 
And  every  voice  accord  to  swell 
The  praises  of  Immanuel. 

There  friends  who  love  may  meet  again 
Beyond  the  reach  of  grief  and  pain  : 
No  parting  tears  shall  dim  the  eye, 
Nor  there  be  heard  the  last  "  Good-by." 


152  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


SUMMER   WINDS. 

BLOW  on,  ye  summer  breezes,  blow, 

And  bring  your  tribute  near, 
Which  noiseless  lips  from  flowerets  kissed 

In  sunshine  warm  and  clear  ; 
From  laughing  rills  and  pleasant  vales, 

Where  silvery  echoes  play, 
A  cooling  freshness  bring  to  me 

To  cheer  each  weary  day. 

Oh  !  bear  to  me  an  offering  sweet, 

Which  distant  meads  withhold, 
Which  hath  a  secret  power  to  please 

The  youthful  and  the  old. 
From  dripping  leaves  and  beaded  stems, 

From  petals  fair  and  bright, 
Convey  the  gifts  each  would  resign 

To  cheer  my  lonely  night. 

From  spotless  lilies  floating  wide 

Upon  their  native  stream, 
Whose  fairy  forms  in  azure  set, 

Like  snowy  cloudlets  seem  ; 


SUMMER    WINDS.  153 

Give  me  the  perfumed  words  they  breathe 

Of  purity  and  love, 
When  sunny  skies  serenely  fair 

Smile  tranquilly  above. 

Oh  !  bear  to  me  the  gladsome  songs 

Of  bircllings  blithe  and  gay, 
Who  wake  to  hail,  in  chorus  sweet, 

The  opening  gates  of  day  ; 
When  murmuring  woodland,  lawn,  and  stream 

Join  in  the  general  strain, 
And  joy  with  welcome  smiles  to  greet 

Day's  golden  car  again. 

Then  still  blow  on,  ye  breezes  fair, 

And  health  and  joy  impart ; 
Dispense  your  bounties  wide  and  far, 

And  cheer  each  lonely  heart ! 
May  summer  winds  and  birds  and  flowers 

Proclaim  the  love  and  care 
Of  Him  who  graciously  bestows 

His  blessings  everywhere ! 


154  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


FADED     LEAVES. 

THE  faded  leaves  in  silence  fall, 

Touched  by  autumnal  frost : 
Their  magic  tints  are  scarcely  seen 

Ere  they  are  wholly  lost. 
E'en  so  our  cherished  prospects  fail, 

When  fairest  oft  they  seem  : 
Like  golden  gifts  in  visions  blest, 

They  prove  an  empty  dream. 

Not  all  a  dream  ;  for  life  has  joys 

And  hopes  forever  dear,  — 
A  wellspring  whence  delicious  streams 

Gush  forth  most  pure  and  clear ; 
For  in  the  heart  sweet  Peace  is  known, 

And  Love  attending  waits 
To  catch  the  faintest  whisper  there, 

Then  opens  wide  her  gates. 

The  trembling  leaves  in  quiet  grew, 

Nor  foe  nor  danger  feared, 
But  drank  the  sunshine  and  the  dew, 

And  smiled  when  storms  appeared. 


FADED  LEAVES.  155 

Thus  may  I  on  my  homeward  path 

Behold  heaven's  glories  nigh, 
Nor  faint  when  adverse  winds  approach, 

When  clouds  obscure  life's  sky. 

As  sentinels  with  glistening  shields, 

The  dewy  leaves  at  morn 
Announced  to  blooming  nature  round 

Another  day  was  born. 
Forsaken  now,  their  watch-towers  stand 

To  mark  the  place  below, 
Where  troops  in  scarlet  vestures  rest, 

Encamped  in  tents  of  snow. 

Life's  springtime  smiles  with  joy  and  peace, 

And  knows  few  bitter  tears  : 
Its  sunny  sky,  all  bright  with  hope, 

Provokes  no  gloomy  fears  ; 
But  when  in  grief's  desponding  night 

The  winds  of  sorrow  moan, 
Like  withered  leaves,  earth's  pleasures  seem 

To  lie  entombed  alone. 

Above  the  dead  the  sighing  winds 

Their  mournful  requiem  sing, 
Whose  plaintive  strains  to  every  heart 

The  saddest  memories  bring. 
The  dearly-loved,  the  good,  the  true, 

Like  flowers  have  passed  away, 
But  left  the  fragrance  of  their  lives 

To  cheer  us  while  we  stay. 


156  IDYLS  Of'  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


THE    BRIEF   ANSWER. 

I  MUSED  in 'silence,  and  I  thought 

Of  blessed  days  to  come, 
When  I  in  triumph  should  be  brought 

To  my  eternal  home  ; 
Where  angels  in  attendance  wait, 

Companions  for  the  blest 
Who  enter,  through  the  pearly  gate, 

The  promised  land  of  rest. 

I  thought  of  mansions  angel-shared, 

With  walls  of  jewelled  light ; 
To  which  on  earth  was  nought  compared, 

So  glorious  was  the  sight !  — 
Of  groves  and  streams  and  fragrant  bowers, 

With  every  charm  replete, 
Where  Eden's  choicest,  fairest  flowers 

Were  clustering  round  my  feet. 

I  thought  of  rest  —  sweet,  welcome  rest  — 
From  grief  and  tears  and  pain  ; 

Where,  with  celestial  beauty  blest, 
To  live  were  joy  again. 


THE  BRIEF  ANSWER.  157 

I  saw  an  angel  joyful  raise 

His  censer  high  in  air, 
Announcing,  with  triumphant  praise, 

That  death  ne'er  entered  there. 

My  heart  was  stirred  with  great  delight 

To  greet  the  blest  display 
That  fell  upon  my  wondering  sight. 

Oh  !  must  it  fade  away  ? 
"  Can  such  a  home  be  mine  ? "  I  cried  : 

"  Mine  such  a  realm  of  bliss  ? " 
I  paused  :  "  a  still,  small  voice  "  replied, 

And  sweetly  answered,  "  Yes." 


158  IDYLS  OF  STRA  WBERK Y  BA NK. 


ON   A    LILY. 

ONCE  a  fragrant,  snowy  lily 

Floated  clown  a  crystal  stream, 
Lingering  not  'mid  scented  flowers, 

Where  green  meads  with  beauty  teem  ; 
Though  it  sailed  through  nook  so  winsome, 

And  where  dancing  sunbeams  play, 
Yet,  refusing  e'er  to  linger, 

Onward  still  it  sped  its  way. 

Though  it  passed  retreats  most  shady, 

Where  the  festooned  arches  hung 
To  protect  from  burning  sunshine 

Dewdrops  hid  its  leaves  among  ; 
Swiftly  passing  dimpled  eddies, 

Dancing  o'er  the  rocks  below, 
Still  intent  upon  its  journey, 

Paused  it  not  their  bliss  to  know. 

Onward,  onward,  still  pursuing, 
Gathering  strength  as  on  it  sped, 

Tarried  not  the  snow-white  voyager 
Till  it  found  its  destined  bed 


ON  A   LILY.  159 

On  the  breast  of  heaving  ocean, 

Leaping  o'er  the  billowy  tide, 
Watching  e'en  with  calm  composure 

Crested  billows  by  its  side. 

Even  so,  pure  moral  courage, 

Passing  down  the  stream  of  life, 
Deaf  to  all  the  world's  allurements, 

Pauses  not  to  join  the  strife  ; 
Shunning  e'en  the  paths  of  pleasure, 

Though  so  harmless  they  appear, 
Beauteous  as  the  modest  daisy 

Which  adorns  the  new-born  year. 

Sailing  swiftly  clown  the  current, 

With  the  tempter's  power  beset, 
Lingers  not  the  moral  sailor, 

Though  life's  cup  may  sparkle  yet. 
Though  the  boisterous  winds  of  passion 

Drive  him  where  bright  eddies  foam, 
Still,  protected  by  his  armor, 

To  his  heart  no  evils  come. 

Onward  still,  with  strength  emboldened, 

Where  the  path  of  duty  leads, 
Soon  he  finds  the  golden  haven 

Where  his  honored  fame  he  reads. 
Strong  to  meet  all  forms  of  error, 

Which  like  mists  obscure  the  day, 
Safe  he  rises  o'er  each  billow, 

Chasing  grievous  ills  away. 


160  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

Conqueror  over  all  temptation, 

Never  strong  in  faith  as  now, 
Virtue  her  true  passport  grants  him 

By  her  signet  on  his  brow. 
To  life's  warfare  then  he  marches, 

Like  a  veteran  tried  and  brave  : 
Never  in  the  van  he  falters 

Till  he  finds  a  glorious  grave. 


HAPPY  MOMENTS.  161 


HAPPY    MOMENTS. 

HAPPY  moments,  gifts  of  love, 
Angel-visits  from  above  ; 
Sumptuous  feasts  in  visions  bright, 
Richest  as  they  take  their  flight ; 
Fleeting  oft  as  perfumes  sweet, 
With  their  secret  charms  replete  ; 
Yet  they  leave  fond  memories  near 
To  dispel  the  falling  tear. 

Happy  moments,  like  those  notes 
Whose  spell  on  trembling  ether  floats, 
Borne,  as  from  celestial  spheres, 
To  enrapture  mortal  ears  ; 
Music  from  an  angel's  lyre 
Purest  joys  must  needs  inspire  : 
Then  the  soul  would  fain  be  free 
To  swell  the  lofty  harmony. 

Happy  moments,  drops  of  dew 
Gorgeous  as  each  rainbow  hue  ; 
Fairest  pearls  of  liquid  light, 
Dropped  by  angel  hands  at  night, 
'4* 


162  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

As  unseen  they  e'er  distil, 
And  with  joy  the  sad  heart  fill ; 
Silently  thus  charming  all 
When  the  shades  of  sorrow  fall. 

Happy  moments,  like  the  gems 

Glittering  in  diadems  ; 

Yet  more  pleasing  far  than  they, 

Sparkling  through  life's  changing  day. 

When  the  soul  exulting  sings 

Of  celestial,  holy  things, 

Earthly  treasures,  though  most  rare, 

Cannot  with  its  joys  compare. 

Happy  moments,  stars  of  night, 
Brilliants  of  celestial  light ; 
Golden  beams,  from  glory  given, 
Winning  us  from  earth  to  heaven. 
'Mid  earth's  gloom  sweet  tidings  come 
From  that  better,  brighter  home, 
Bidding  us  still  journey  on, 
Till  the  conqueror's  crown  is  won. 


THE  SPIRIT'S   WHISPER.  163 


THE   SPIRIT'S    WHISPER. 

GRACIOUS  Spirit,  I  would  listen 

To  thy  voice  so  full  of  love, 
Whispering,  in  the  soul's  deep  stillness, 

Holy  tidings  from  above. 
I  would  have  my  heart  made  ready 

For  thy  peaceful,  quiet  rest, 
As  a  dove,  with  care  unwearied, 

Seeketh  for  herself  a  nest. 

I  would  cherish  thy  blest  visit, 

When  reproof  must  needs  be  given, 
As  kind  tokens  of  God's  favor, 

Borne  on  angel  wings  from  heaven. 
I  would  covet  such  a  guidance, 

Lest  my  erring  footsteps  stray  ; 
And  would  feel  thy  beams  around  me, 

Like  a  sun  to  light  my  way. 

Whisper  to  me  :  tell  of  glories 
Which  adorn  the  heavenly  home, 

Where,  through  grace  and  faith  made  perfect, 
Joyous  I  at  length  would  come. 


164  IDYLS   OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

Let  me  hear  the  blessed  anthems 
Which  pure  seraphs  love  to  sing, 

To  which  golden  harps  in  concert 
Sweetest  notes  forever  bring. 

Gentle  Spirit,  whisper  to  me, 

When  in  sadness  and  in  tears  ; 
Let  the  "  still,  small  voice  "  melodious 

Quick  dispel  my  rising  fears. 
Onward,  then,  still  homeward  tending, 

I  may  grasp  the  golden  chain 
By  which  blessings  pure  and  holy 

Visit  earth  like  welcome  rain. 


NA  TURE  'S  PA  GES.  1 6  5 


NATURE'S    PAGES. 

LET  me  read  from  Nature's  pages,  — 

Truths  sublime  lie  written  there  ; 
Let  me  find  among  its  records 

Thoughts  like  jewels  passing  fair  ; 
Let  me  trace  the  hand  of  wisdom 

In  all  things  we  here  behold  : 
Grove  and  mountain,  stream  and  fountain, 

Each  have  wonders  to  unfold. 

Forests  with  their  waving  shadows, 

Skirted  round  with  grove  and  lawn, 
Tell  of  silence  where,  unheeded, 

Beauty  blushes  with  the  dawn. 
Solitude  oft  nurtures  fancies  ; 

But  in  secret,  too,  are  found 
Angel  footsteps  softly  falling, 

So  no  ear  can  catch  the  sound. 

Voices  'mid  the  balmy  stillness 
Speak  most  sweetly  to  the  heart 

In  pure  accents,  which,  if  heeded, 
Bid  all  gloomy  thoughts  depart ; 


1 66  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

Teaching  that  in  patient  waiting 

Strength  is  gained,  though  slow  our  speed 

Towering  oaks  the  storm  can  battle, 
Zephyrs  may  uproot  the  weed. 

Mountains,  kingly  in  their  grandeur, 

Steadfast  point  toward  loftier  skies  ; 
So  our  souls,  by  faith  made  stronger, 

Would  unfettered  homeward  rise. 
Upward  rising,  onward  tending, 

With  our  spirits  constant,  pure, 
May  our  hopes  be  firmly  rooted 

On  foundations  strong  and  sure  ! 

Crystal  rivers  softly  flowing 

Onward  towards  their  goal  afar, 
Bearing  on  their  azure  bosoms 

Fleecy  cloud  and  glistening  star, 
Speak  of  Time's  swift-gliding  current, 

With  our  blessings  mirrored  there,  — 
Royal  proofs  most  kindly  given 

Of  God's  wondrous  love  and  care. 

Let  me  list  to  Nature's  music, 

Sounding  o'er  her  wide  domain, 
In  the  purling,  rippling  current, 

In  the  soft-descending  rain  ; 
Let  me  hear  the  rolling  thunder 

When  the  vivid  lightnings  play ; 
Feel  the  glorious  Power  that  guides  them, 

Trusting  it  to  guide  my  way. 


NA  TURK  'S  PA  GES.  1 6  ^ 

Earth  is  filled  with  wondrous  beauty, 

If  but  thankful  we  behold 
Treasures  easier  found  and  cared  for 

Than  the  world's  great  idol,  —  gold. 
Costly  mines  oft  lie  embedded 

Near  our  footsteps  day  by  day  ; 
From  which  pearls  of  truth  are  gathered, 

If  but  patience  lead  the  way. 


1 68  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


LINES. 

SHOULD  darkness  o'er  thy  pathway  spread, 
And  threatening  clouds  hang  o'er  thy  head, 
And  trials  cause  thy  heart  to  mourn, 
By  deepest  sufferings  keenly  torn, 
Then  look  above,  where  skies  are  bright ; 
Though  gloom  may  intercept  the  light : 
The  sun  still  shines,  though  hid  from  view  ; 
And  prayer  will  let  the  glory  through. 

For  rarest  gems  most  care  we  show, 
On  them  most  labor  we  bestow, 
To  find  their  beauty  and  their  worth, 
Hid  'neath  their  surface  from  their  birth  ; 
So  tears  and  pains,  and  toils  and  care, 
Are  the  rough  sands  oft  used  to  wear 
The  coarseness  from  our  rougher  part, 
To  show  a  jewel  in  the  heart. 


BUBBLING  ECHOES.  169 


BUBBLING    ECHOES. 

ECHOES  from  the  crystal  fountain, 

Springing  up  from  depths  below, 
Pure  as  on  the  cloud-capt  mountain 

Falls  the  white  and  spotless  snow; 
Let  me  hear  thy  liquid  music, 

Sounding  forth  from  granite  keys  ; 
Touched  by  fairies'  jewelled  fingers, 

Sounds  sublime  but  equal  these. 

Steamlets  from  the  bubbling  fountain, 

Gliding  on  thy  steady  way, 
Let  me  on  thy  dimpled  surface 

See  the  loitering  eddies  play  ; 
Let  me  hear  the  rush  of  waters 

Foaming  o'er  thy  rocky  bed, 
Like  a  white-plumed  warrior  marching 

Of  his  loyal  troops  ahead. 

Ocean,  to  the  flowing  rivers 
And  the  living  fountains  due, 

Let  me  hear  triumphant  numbers 
Grandly  sounding  forth  from  you  ; 
'5 


170  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

Let  me  in  thy  crested  billows 
See  the  jewels  sparkle  free, 

While  a  thousand  rainbows  mingle 
With  the  deep,  unfathomed  sea. 

Echoes  from  the  crystal  fountain, 

Speak  in  silver  tones  to  me 
Of  pure  pleasures  gushing  upward 

From  those  depths  no  eye  can  see. 
Sparkling  like  thy  rippling  waters, 

Deeds  of  virtue  I  behold, 
Dearer  to  the  soul's  affections 

Than  rare  gifts  of  sordid  gold. 

Streamlet  joyous  rushing  onward, 

With  thy  blue  lips  kissing  showers, 
Which  a  bounteous  heaven  sprinkles 

On  thy  banks  bestrewed  with  flowers. 
Let  me,  like  thy  mirrored  surface, 

Fully  drink  of  truth  and  love, 
Which,  reflected  all  around  me, 

Would  in  praise  return  above. 

Ocean,  deep,  deep-sounding  ocean  ! 

In  thy  depths  the  type  I  see 
Of  that  matchless  grace  which  Heaven 

Has  most  freely  shown  to  me. 
May  I,  like  its  outspread  waters, 

Feel  the  sunshine  of  God's  love, 
Till,  on  billowy  surges,  weary, 

Rest  I  seek  like  Noah's  dove  ! 


BUBBLING  ECHOES.  \^^ 

Fountain,  streamlet,  ocean  boundless, 

Blend  in  one  harmonious  strain, 
Echoing  back  in  liquid  breathings 

Their  pure  native  tones  again  ; 
Let  me  catch  the  inspiration, 

Full  and  pure  and  free  as  these  • 
Let  me  hear  the  secret  whispers 

Of  fair  brooks  and  murmuring  trees. 


172  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


THE    OLD    ELM.* 

I  LOVE  the  old  elm  in  the  orchard, 

Which  slopes  to  the  edge  of  the  stream, 
Where,  with  the  fresh  spirits  of  boyhood, 

I  passed  through  life's  sunniest  dream  : 
Its  boughs  towered  high  in  their  grandeur, 

Far  up  in  the  fair  azure  sky, 
Where  songsters  might  nestle  their  offspring, 

And  mischief  could  never  come  nigh. 

Its  roots,  once  most  firmly  embedded, 

Were  washed  by  the  oft-flowing  tide, 
Which  told  to  all  sorrowing  schoolboys, 

It  might  not  much  longer  abide. 
We  made  of  its  long-running  fibres 

Some  fairy-like  baskets  at  will, 
Which  earned  such  acceptable  praises 

As  if  wrought  with  magical  skill. 

*  That  graceful  elm  which  formerly  adorned  the  premises  of  the  late  Na 
thaniel  Adams,  Esq.,  was  removed,  in  1844,  to  make  room  for  the  modern  im 
provements  in  that  locality. 

SUPPLEMENTARY  NOTE.  —  The  editor  recalls  the  scene  ;  but  the  memory 
of  "  Old  Jack,"  the  big  black  dog,  obtrudes  itself,  and  mars  somewhat  the 
serene  picture  of  the,  past.  Once  in  the  fangs  of  the  beast,  and  having  to 
jump  overboard  to  save  himself,  he  does  not  recall  the  Old  Elm  as  the  pre 
mium  point  of  his  boyhood  — S. 


THE   OLD  ELM.  i? 

I  think  of  the  well-chosen  hollow 

In  the  clean,  grassy-carpeted  ground, 
Where  caps  filled  with  apples  were  carried, 

And  desserts  for  evening  were  found  ; 
When,  gathered  in  circles  most  friendly, 

And  cosey  as  birds  in  a  nest, 
We  listened  to  tales  oft  repeated, 

Exciting  each  juvenile  breast. 

How  often  those  tales,  which  in  childhood 

Are  mentioned  as  fanciful  things, 
Are  found  in  life's  warfare  more  truthful, 

In  facts  which  experience  brings  ! 
How  oft  are  those  bright,  sunny  mornings, 

When  shadows  as  strangers  are  known, 
Exchanged  for  those  lone,  cheerless  evenings, 

When  noon  into  twilight  has  grown ! 

Yes :  youth  has  its  charms  and  its  pleasures, 

And  manhood  its  joys  and  its  fears ; 
Both  leaving  on  memory's  tablet 

The  well-written  record  of  years. 
And  while  through  life's  garden  we  ramble, 

To  gather  once  more  its  bright  flowers, 
How  often  each  scene  then  reminds  us 

Of  some  of  our  happiest  hours  ! 

The  elm  with  its  grandeur  has  fallen, 

A  vestige  no  longer  remains  ; 
The  birds  have  all  ceased  in  its  branches 

To  sing  their  melodious  strains  ; 
15* 


J74  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

And  the  boys  who  once  played  in  its  shadow 
Are  scattered  wide  over  the  earth, 

Denied  those  exuberant  feelings 

Which  innocent  childhood  gave  birth. 

Although  both  the  elm  and  the  orchard 

Have  passed  long  ago  from  our  sight, 
And  the  hum  of  the  unwearied  steam-mill 

Is  heard  now  by  day  and  by  night  ; 
Still  round  that  old  spot  there  yet  clusters 

Bright  visions  of  scenes  that  are  past, 
And  a  savor  of  freshness  and  gladness, 

Which  will  ever  in  memory  last. 


SUNSHINE  AND  SHADOW.  175 


SUNSHINE   AND   SHADOW. 

IN  pleasant  sunshine,  warm  and  bright, 
Rich  blessings  come  in  golden  light, 
And  fill  the  heart  with  joy  and  peace, 
Too  pure  and  holy  soon  to  cease. 
Like  flowers  scattered  o'er  our  way, 
Which  oft  invite  a  long  delay, 
They  bid  us  raise  our  thoughts  above 
To  the  sole  source  of  purest  love. 

When  life's  young  sky  is  calm  and  fair, 
And  silver  clouds  lie  floating  there  ; 
When  cherished  hopes  inspire  the  breast, 
Which  knows  no  fears  nor  sad  unrest ; 
As  clewdrops  nestle  in  a  rose, 
Enjoying  there  a  sweet  repose,  — 
E'en  so  the  soul,  content  and  blest 
'Mid  sunny  smiles,  is  soothed  to  rest. 

What  though  a  cloud  in  flowery  June 
Should  yield  its  crystal  waters  soon, 
And  cast  a  shadow  o'er  the  sky 
Just  when  new  glories  shone  on  high  ! 


IDYLS   OF  STRAWBERRY  BAArK'. 

They  only  make  the  scene  more  fair, 
And  show  us  brilliants  sparkling  there, 
Which,  blending  all  in  tints  most  pure, 
But  make  "  the  promise  "  still  more  sure. 

When  prosperous  clays,  like  sunshine,  bless 
And  cheer  our  souls  with  soft  caress, 
Should  lengthening  shadows  darkly  come 
Around  our  pleasant,  joyous  home, 
Causing  our  hearts,  with  anguish  torn 
By  deepest  sufferings,  to  mourn, 
Yet  even  then  bright  stars  are  seen 
Emerging  with  their  light  serene. 

In  deep  affliction  oft  are  found 
Rare  gems  of  truth,  though  pains  abound, 
Which  only  serve  to  loose  the  soil, 
That  else  were  broke  with  care  and  toil  ; 
While  living  streams  of  light  and  love, 
Akin  to  the  blest  fount  above, 
Spring  forth  with  consolation  sure, 
Like  priestly  incense  choice  and  pure. 

In  solitude,  unseen,  unknown, 

How  oft  a  weary7  soul  has  grown 

In  heavenly  grace,  with  patient  smile, 

Though  clews  of  grief  fell  fast  the  while  ! 

When  trials  oft  a  sad  heart  fill, 

The  cup  o'erflows  with  blessings  still ; 

While  "  ministering  spirits  "  wait 

To  point  the  way  to  Zion's  gate. 


SUNSHINE   AND   SHADOW.  177 

While  homeward  still  our  footsteps  tend, 
May  light  and  shade  together  blend, 
Uniting  in  one  golden  glow, 
Which  God's  eternal  love  doth  show ! 
Then  all  within  will  grow  more  fair, 
No  discontent  abiding  there  ; 
Then  all  beyond  be  perfect  peace, 
Where  sorrow,  sin,  and  shadows  cease. 


1 7 3  ID  YLS  OP  STRA  WBERR  Y  BANK. 


SYMPATHY. 

How  sweetly  words  of  sympathy 

Fall  on  the  sufferer's  ear, 
Like  silvery  music  heard  at  night, 

On  zephyrs  floating  near  ! 
They  gently  calm  the  troubled  breast, 

And  bid  its  tumult  cease  : 
They  wake  responsive  echoes  dear, 

Which  ever  whisper,  Peace. 

True  sympathy,  like  precious  balm, 

Dispels  the  sorrowing  tear, 
And  bids  the  clouds  of  sadness  flee, 

With  all  their  shadows  drear  ; 
It  brings  warm  sunshine  to  the  heart 

Oppressed  with  bitter  woes, 
And  soothes  the  troubled  waters  fast 

To  sweet  and  calm  repose. 

It  drives  the  cafes  of  life  away, 
Or  makes  their  burden  less, 

And  brings  to  weary  pilgrims  oft 
Some  gleams  of  happiness. 


SYMPATHY.  179 

Amid  the  hours  of  pain  and  gloom 

'Tis  like  a  star  of  night, 
Which  glistens  in  the  dome  above 

To  make  the  darkness  light. 

I  treasure  up  each  kindly  word 

Or  action  ever  done, 
As  pictures  bright  to  look  upon 

When  loving  friends  have  gone  ; 
And  gratefully  within  my  breast 

Shall  fondest  memories  dwell, 
Concerning  those  whose  deeds  have  proved 

Their  generous  feelings  well. 

While  in  these  thorny  paths  I  stay, 

While  travelling  to  my  home, 
I  pray  that  I  may  often  hear 

An  angel  footstep  come 
With  words  of  solace  to  beguile 

A  weary  hour  of  pain, 
And  bid  my  drooping  spirits  rise, 

And  joy  in  hope  again. 


l8o  IDYLS   OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


THE    SHINING    LIGHT. 

PILGRIM,  on  thy  heavenly  journey, 

Though  bright  scenes  invite  delay, 
Let  not  grievous  trials  turn  thee 

From  the  strait  and  narrow  way. 
Look  above  the  clouds  that  gather, 

Like  a  curtain  dark  as  night ; 
Let  the  golden  sunshine  rather 

Cheer  thee  with  its  welcome  light. 

Let  the  glory  ever  shining 

From  the  throne  e'er  guide  thy  way, 
All  thy  weary  steps  inclining 

Toward  the  realms  of  perfect  day. 
Let  thy  thoughts  be  e'er  ascending 

Where  thy  treasure  rests  on  high  ; 
Gloomy  clouds  in  triumph  rending 

By  thy  faith  which  cleaves  the  sky. 

Let  the  dayspring  breathing  o'er  thee, . 

With  its  radiant  beams  of  light, 
Keep  this  precious  thought  before  thee, 

With  God's  favor  all  is  bright. 


THE  SHINING  LIGHT.  181 

Grief  may  cast  its  mantle  o'er  us, 
And  dark  shadows  dim  our  way ; 

But  the  shining  light  before  us 
Soon  shall  chase  all  gloom  away. 

May  its  blissful  presence  guide  thee 

—  Though  the  fruits  of  error  lie 
With  their  tempting  sweets  beside  thee  — 

To  thy  blessed  home  on  high. 
Let  the  storm  then  wildly  press  us, 

And  dark  billows  round  us  roar  : 
Nought  can  ever  long  distress  us 

While  we  seek  the  heavenly  shore. 

Truth  is  mighty,  and  prevaileth, 

Like  the  brilliant  sun  at  noon, 
Over  unbelief,  which  raileth 

In  vain  strife  to  perish  soon. 
May  this  holy  light  beam  o'er  us, 

Like  the  smiles  of  God's  dear  love, 
Charming  all  life's  way  before  us, 

Till  we  reach  its  fount  above  ! 

16 


1 8 2  ID  YLS  OF  S  TRA  WBERR  Y  BANK. 


THE   DEATH    OF    THE    RIGHTEOUS. 

LET  me  die  e'en  like  the  righteous, 

—  Strong  in  faith  and  full  of  hope, — 
On  God's  mighty  arm  relying, 

Confidently  looking  up. 
Let  me  leave  this  dreary  valley, 

And  with  angel  pinions  soar 
To  the  realms  of  fadeless  beauty, 

Where  afflictions  come  no  more. 

Journeying  toward  the  promised  haven, 

Where  pure  happiness  is  known. 
May  I  find  a  Father's  welcome, 

And  a  parent's  tender  tone  ! 
As  the  twilight  fadeth  quickly, 

When  the  rosy  morn  appears, 
May  the  glory  of  his  presence 

Soon  dispel  all  lingering  fears  ! 

Let  me  leave  this  world  of  sadness, 
Where  are  known  the  ways  of  strife, 

And  with  true,  unending  gladness 
Enter  on  that  glorious  life, 


THE  DEATH  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS.        183 

Where  long  years  of  pain  and  sorrow 
Shall  be  changed  to  those  of  bliss ; 

Where  no  dreaded,  sad  to-morrow 
Shrouds  our  hopes  as  oft  in  this. 

Let  me  prize  each  word  so  heavenly 

Which  the  gracious  Saviour  spoke  ; 
Dearer  than  the  praises  uttered 

When  the  box  of  ointment  broke. 
As  rare  jewels  may  I  cherish 

Each  blest  promise  made  for  me  ; 
Then  my  heart  can  sing  for  gladness, 

While  my  faith  is  strong  in  thee. 

Let  me  hear  the  final  summons 

For  my  spirit's  glad  release, 
On  my  ear  enraptured  falling, 

As  from  angels  whispering  peace. 
Let  me  hear  the  blessed  anthems 

Which  the  holy  angels  sing, 
Sweetly  echoed  by  the  ransomed, 

Who  their  highest  praises  bring. 

Then,  with  loved  ones  gone  before  us, 

Saved  from  death  and  woe  and  sin, 
We,  with  God's  own  hand  stretched  o'er  us, 

To  his  joy  shall  enter  in. 
Then  our  bliss  shall  be  made  perfect, 

Throughout  ages  ever  blest ; 
And  eternal  glory  crown  us 

Where  the  righteous  find  their  rest. 


I?4  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


ON   A   WHITE   ROSE 

ROSE,  upon  thy  fragile  stem, 

White  e'en  like  the  fleecy  snow, 
Crystal  fount  nor  sparkling  gem 

Can  such  grateful  odor  show. 
And  we  prize  thee,  spotless,  pure  ; 

Like  a  pet  we  give  thee  place  : 
Though  thou  mayst  not  long  endure, 

Yet  may  we  a  lesson  trace. 

Innocence  and  beauty  blend 

In  thy  soft  and  velvet  dress  ; 
While  thy  blushes  likewise  tend 

To  increase  thy  loveliness. 
Modest  grace  here,  too,  we  see, 

Couched  beneath  thy  emerald  bed  : 
Till  the  mild  wind  kisses  thee, 

Hidest  thou  thy  white-crowned  head. 

So  true  merit  often  lies 

Close  concealed  in  modest  dress, 
And  the  world's  gay  pomp  denies. 

Choosing  with  kind  deeds  to  bless. 


ON  A    WHIIE  ROSE.  185 

Like  sweet  incense  kind  distilling 

Healthful  balm  on  all  around, 
Every  heart  most  gladly  filling 

With  such  peace  as  may  abound. 

When  the  winds  arise,  exciting 

Vines  that  tremble  on  the  eaves, 
Quickly  to  the  call  replying, 

She  her  sweet  concealment  leaves. 
Then  her  worth  is  soon  discovered, 

And  her  fame  to  all  is  known  : 
Praises  then,  as  wreaths  all  fadeless, 

On  her  head  rest  like  a  crown. 

Roses  droop  and  fade  and  wither, 

And  their  tender  petals  fall : 
Grief  the  sunniest  sky  o'ershadows 

When  loved  friends  obey  the  call  ; 
Bidding  them  put  off  their  blooming 

When  their  vigor  fades  so  fast, 
And  the  tomb,  so  sad  and  lonely, 

Holds  the  treasure  firm  at  last. 

But  dear  friends,  unlike  the  flowers 

With  celestial  beauty  blest, 
Shall,  when  sounds  the  heavenly  signal, 

Break  their  cold  and  silent  rest. 
They  shall  come,  made  like  the  angels, 

From  all  lands,  afar  and  near, 
To  the  home  of  many  mansions, 

Which  we  hold  in  hope  so  dear. 
1 6* 


1 86  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


ONE   KIND   WORD. 

ONE  kindly  word,  how  sweet  its  tone, 
When  dropped  from  lips  sincere  ! 

It  has  a  cadence  all  its  own, 
So  soft,  so  pure,  so  clear. 

The  gentlest  whisper  may  convey 

Blest  music  to  the  heart, 
And  vibrate  through  each  happy  day, 

Touched  by  its  magic  art. 

Sweet  memories  will  gather  fast 
Around  our  paths  each  day, 

And  peace  a  golden  sunshine  cast, 
Not  soon  to  fade  away. 

And,  when  we  cull  the  choicest  flowers 
Which  bloom  to  charm  us  here, 

They  but  recall  those  halcyon  hours 
By  friendship  e'er  made  dear. 

Let  loving  words  fall  on  my  ear 

In  such  bewitching  tone, 
That  I  may  still  sweet  music  hear 

When  dearest  friends  have  gone. 


ONE  KIND    WORD.  187 

Then  on  some  calm  and  twilight  hour, 

When  zephyrs  fan  the  trees, 
Shall  I  still  feel  their  cheering  power 

When  whispered  by  the  breeze. 

And  when  sweet  perfumes  fill  the  air 

At  morning's  rosy  hour, 
They  will  but  speak  of  joys  most  rare, 

Which  bloomed  in  friendship's  bower. 

No  kind,  sweet  word  is  e'er  forgot, 
Which  springs  from  feelings  true : 

Each  is  a  bright  "  Forget-me-not," 
All  wet  with  sparkling  dew. 


l88  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK, 


ON   A   SLEEPING  CHILD. 

SLEEP  on,  thou  little  slumberer, 

Upon  thy  mother's  arm  : 
Thou  know'st  no  fear  nor  sorrow  there, 

Secure  from  all  alarm. 
In  quiet  dream  thou  restest  now, 

As  on  a  bed  of  flowers,  — 
E'en  as  a  lily  bows  its  head 

When  fall  the  summer  showers. 

Blest  angels  guard  thy  little  bed, 

And  fold  their  wings  to  stay 
Beside  thy  lovely  form,  to  keep 

All  shadows  far  away. 
And,  when  the  sunshine's  golden  lips 

Drink  up  the  dew  at  dawn, 
They  plant  fair  blushes  on  thy  cheeks, 

Caught  from  the  breath  of  morn. 

Sleep  on,  thou  little  innocent ; 

Enjoy  thy  peaceful  rest, 
E'en  like  a  timid,  gentle  dove 

Within  its  downy  nest ; 


ON  A  SLEEPING   CHILD.  189 

And  when  thy  merry,  happy  songs 

Float  on  the  perfumed  air, 
No  liquid  note  will  sound  more  sweet, 

No  silvery  chimes  more  rare. 

When  through  the  woods  and  shady  dells 

With  buoyant  steps  you  roam, 
To  cull  the  sweetest,  choicest  flowers 

To  grace  thy  native  home, 
May  you  with  joyous  heart  behold, 

Upon  the  petals  fair, 
The  tokens  of  thy  Father's  power, 

Who  makes  us  all  his  care ! 

And  when  shall  pass  away  so  soon 

Thy  childhood's  hours  serene  ; 
When  duty's  silent  voice  shall  lead 

Through  many  a  varied  scene,  — 
May  benedictions  from  the  skies 

Beam  on  thy  upward  way, 
Till  all  earth's  cares  and  griefs  are  lost 

When  dawns  the  perfect  day  ! 


1 90  IDYLS  Of  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


"AS   RAIN    UPON  THE   MOWN    GRASS." 

As  on  the  fragrant,  new-mown  grass 

Descends  the  summer  rain, 
Which  bids  the  drooping  flowers  revive, 

And  smile  with  joy  again  ; 
So  may  thy  Spirit  on  our  hearts 

Like  gentle  dews  distil, 
Imparting  to  us  needed  grace 

Our  mission  to  fulfil. 

May  light  and  joy  and  peace  be  ours, 

Descending  from  above,  — 
Those  blessed  gifts  which  God  doth  send 

As  tokens  of  his  love  ! 
May  their  sweet  influence  give  us  cheer 

When  sunshine  fades  away, 
And  bring  unto  our  burdened  souls 

The  gleams  of  heavenly  day. 


AUTUMN. 


AUTUMN. 

AUTUMN,  with  a  queenly  beauty, 

Walks  in  triumph  o'er  the  plain, 
Giving  to  the  changing  woodland 

All  their  varied  charms  again. 
As  she  glides  with  measured  footsteps 

O'er  the  hills  and  meadows  green, 
Every  tender  leaf  is  tinted 

Ere  her  royal  robes  are  seen. 

Golden  sheaves  of  bounteous  harvest 

Welcome  her  each  sunny  morn, 
When  they  hear  her  rustling  garments 

Passing  through  the  fields  of  corn  ; 
When  with  patient  ear  they  listen 

To  the  words  she  chants  the  while, 
Which  can  cause  their  withered  graces 

With  a  pleasing  joy  to  smile. 

In  parterre  and  blooming  valley, 

Where  the  bright  flowers  lingering  stay, 

In  warm  sunshine  all  rejoicing 
Ere  their  glory  fade  away, 


IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

She  draws  near  with  timid  footsteps, 

Lulling  all  to  dewy  sleep, 
Loving  o'er  their  peaceful  slumbers 

Guardian  watchfulness  to  keep. 

On  the  sighing  wind  she  breatheth 

Pensive  tones  for  every  year, 
As  a  requiem  o'er  the  lost  ones, 

Who  performed  their  mission  here. 
Like  a  fragrant  bud  of  summer, 

Drooping  when  they  seem  most  fair, 
Cherished  words  to  us  bequeathing, 

Chaining  sweetest  memories  there. 

With  untaught  but  skilful  fingers, 

She  weaves  chaplets  for  the  dead 
Ere  the  fading,  trembling  leaflets 

Seek  their  lowly,  mossy  bed  ; 
While  in  those  rare  tints  she  painteth, 

With  a  true  and  skilful  hand, 
Types  we  see  of  fadeless  beauty, 

Which  adorns  the  better  land. 

Like  the  changing  leaf  of  autumn, 

Man  must  also  pass  away, 
Though  the  voice  of  love  and  friendship 

Loud  invite  a  long  delay ; 
But  beyond  earth's  changing  shadows, 

Where  its  griefs  and  cares  ne'er  come, 
Scenes  of  endless  joy  invite  him 

To  a  blest,  eternal  home. 


esr 


"/  WISH  /  WERE  A  BIRD:''  193 


"I    WISH    I    WERE   A   BIRD." 

I  WISH  I  were  a  little  bird, 

All  beautiful  and  bright : 
My  liquid  carol  sweet  and  pure 

Should  wake  the  morning  light  ; 
When  sunbeams  chase  the  shadows  fast, 

From  flowery  vales  away, 
My  matins  I  would  blithely  sing 

To  charm  the  early  day. 

To  lonely  chambers  dark  and  still, 

Where  music  ne'er  is  heard, 
My  choicest  strains  I  there  would  sing, 

My  heart  with  pity  stirred  ; 
Upon  each  warm  and  sunny  day, 

Close  by  the  window-seat, 
Beneath  the  leafy  bowers  oft 

My  lay  would  I  repeat. 

To  those  who  never  joyous  see 

The  rosy  morning  light, 
My  willing  tribute  should  be  given 

With  most  sincere  delight. 
'7 


194  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

When  weary  hours  grow  long  with  pain, 

The  oftener  I  would  sing, 
And  try  some  cheering  gift  to  bring 

Upon  my  burdened  wing. 

To  lonely  hearts  all  desolate, 

Who  find  no  happy  hour, 
Nor  even  in  earth's  treasures  fair 

Can  see  one  beauteous  flower, 
Would  I  my  tenderest  strains  oft  pour 

Close  by  their  listening  ear, 
Till  to  their  quickened  souls  would  seem 

An  angel's  anthem  near. 

Then  shadows  now  which  needless  fall 

Upon  the  lone  and  weak 
Should  yield  to  golden  sunshine  bright 

Before  one  fleeting  week  : 
Desponding  souls  should  quickly  rise, 

Their  hearts  with  pleasure  stirred, 
Because  they  only  heard  the  song 

Of  one  kind  little  bird  ! 


THE  MORNING   COMETH.  195 


THE   MORNING    COMETH. 

THE  morning  cometh  !  sweet  the  word 
Proclaimed  on  watchtower's  height : 

The  cheering  accent  now  is  heard  ; 
Soon  ends  this  dreary  night. 

For  us  the  sound  is  kindly  given 

To  chase  our  fears  away  ; 
And  soon  our  eyes  shall  view  that  heaven 

Where  reigns  eternal  day. 


The  morning  cometh  !  echo  far 

The  welcome  tidings,  free  ! 
Though  night  may  boast  full  many  a  star, 

The  sun  must  rise  for  thee. 


The  morning  cometh  !  joyful  note  ! 

How  blissful  is  the  sound  ! 
On  fragrant  breezes  may  it  float 

This  groaning:  earth  around  ! 


196  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

Let  every  captive  lend  an  ear 

Who  toils  beneath  his  load  ; 
Let  every  soul  the  message  hear, 

And  choose  the  heavenly  road  ! 

As  oft  our  highest  joys  we  gain 
Through  grief  and  bitter  tears  ; 

So  dreary  night  on  earth  must  reign 
Before  the  morn  appears. 

But  sin  has  reigned  a  tyrant  long, 

And  we  have  felt  its  power : 
Its  gloomy  bands,  though  forged  and  strong, 

Must  vanish  in  an  hour. 


How  great  the  change,  when  day  shall  gleam, 

Perpetual,  glorious,  bright ! 
An  emblem  fair  each  ray  will  seem 

Of  beauty  and  delight. 

Thy  warfare,  Christian,  soon  will  end  ; 

Thy  race  will  soon  be  o'er  ; 
God  will  thy  constant  peace  defend 

Where  tears  shall  fall  no  more. 

The  morning  cometh  !  saints,  rejoice  i 
The  "  dead  in  Christ  "  shall  rise, 

And  welcome  with  angelic  voice 
Their  Saviour  in  the  skies  ! 


THE  MORNING   COMETH. 

Redeemed  from  all  that  can  destroy 

Their  holy,  heavenly  peace, 
Pure  praises  shall  their  songs  employ, 

Their  transport  never  cease. 

Haste,  Lord,  that  promised  glorious  morn 

Attend  thy  children's  cry  ! 
And  let  refulgent  glory  dawn 

Across  the  eastern  sky  ! 

Confirm  our  hopes,  entrance  our  eyes, 

With  but  a  glimpse  of  thee  ! 
Then  would  our  ransomed  bodies  rise 

When  we  thy  face  shall  see ! 

Enraptured  with  thy  presence,  Lord, 

We  at  thy  feet  would  fall, 
And  feast  delighted  on  each  word, 

And  claim  thee  "  all  in  all." 

But  patiently  we  still  would  wait 
Till  thine  own  time  hath  run  : 

Then  through  thy  mercy,  free  and  great, 
The  "  victory  "  will  be  won ! 


17 


198  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


THE    SUMMER    RAIN 


ON  trembling  leaves  and  opening  buds 
The  bounteous  rain  descends, 

And  with  soft  murmurs  through  the  woods 
Sweet,  pensive  music  blends. 

The  meadows,  lawns,  and  lovely  vales, 

In  livelier  robes  are  seen 
To  smile  content  on  all  around, 

And  boast  their  fairy  sheen. 


Those  flowers  which  languished  on  the  plain, 

And  hung  their  drooping  head, 
Now  with  a  conscious  vigor  bloom, 

With  brighter  leaves  outspread. 


The  little  rill  which  slowly  ran 

Addwn  the  sloping  hill, 
Now  quicker  speeds  its  headlong  course, 

Its  mission  to  fulfil. 


THE  SUMMER  RAIN.  IQ9 

The  trees  a  cooling  freshness  give 

To  the  soft,  balmy  air ; 
While  sunny  skies  through  fleecy  clouds 

Smile  on  the  prospect  fair. 

The  bubbling  brooks  now  quickly  pour 

Their  well-filled  stores  along, 
To  do  their  office  at  the  mill, 

And  swell  the  laborers'  song. 

The  violets  on  their  tender  stems 

Receive  the  precious  boon 
Which  bounteous  Heaven  thus  kind  bestows, 

Lest  they  should  fail  too  soon. 

Fresh  roses  ope  their  petals  wide 

To  drink  the  blessing  rare  ; 
While  dewdrops  linger  on  their  stems, 

As  pure  as  diamonds  are. 

Fair  daisies  on  the  mossy  banks 

With  purest  light  are  crowned  ; 
While  silver  leaves  and  beaded  twigs 

On  every  hand  are  found. 

So  let  created  Nature  boast 

To  show  a  fairer  face, 
And  open  new  her  fruitful  stores 

In  every  lovely  face. 


200  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


CONSOLING   PROMISE. 

"  And  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes  ;  and  there  shall  be 
no  more  death,  neither  sorrow  nor  crying,  neither  shall  there  be  any  more 
pain  :  for  the  former  things  are  passed  away."  —  REV.  xxi.  4. 

THRICE  happy  that  expected  day 

When  sorrows  shall  be  o'er, 
When  earth-born  trials  flee  away, 

And  tears  be  shed  no  more  ! 

While  here  we  dwell,  though  blessings  flow 

Profusely  in  our  way, 
And  on  our  hearts  their  charms  bestow 

Throughout  life's  fleeting  day,  — 

Yet  troubles,  like  the  thorn,  oft  spring 

To  mar  our  transient  joy, 
And  unseen  evils  sadly  bring, 

Which  cause  us  more  annoy. 

No  constant,  true,  abiding  peace 

Is  promised  long  below  ; 
Nor  will  our  souls  find  sweet  release 

While  sin  remains  our  foe. 


CONSOLING   PROMISE.  201 

Nor  is  there  one  confiding  soul, 

Whate'er  his  joys  may  be, 
Who  can  his  destiny  control, 

And  bid  all  sorrows  flee. 

Through  tribulation's  thorny  way, 

The  gate  is  often  found 
To  those  blest  scenes,  where  angels  stay 

And  feast  on  holy  ground. 

There  Christians  find,  with  humble  hearts, 

Sweet  converse  with  their  Lord, 
And  learn,  what  nought  but  grace  imparts, 

True  knowledge  of  his  word. 

Christ,  the  Forerunner  for  our  good, 

Victorious  led  the  way, 
Through  gloomy  sorrow's  dismal  flood, 

To  realms  of  brighter  day. 

He  felt  the  world's  opposing  scorn, 

Its  bigoted  disdain  ; 
With  grief  he  wandered,  oft  forlorn, 

And  suffered  every  pain. 

If  then,  as  "  children,"  we  obey 

His  ever-gracious  voice, 
He  soon  will  wipe  our  tears  away, 

And  bid  us  e'er  rejoice. 


IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

We  then  shall  share  his  constant  love, 

Exempt  from  every  pain, 
And  all  enrapturing  pleasures  prove,  — 

A  great  eternal  gain. 

A  "  recompense"  we  then  shall  find 

For  every  earthly  ill,. 
And  know  in  truth  that  God  designed 

His  glory  to  fulfil. 

Faith,  grace,  and  patience,  Lord,  impart 

To  each  afflicted  here, 
That  he  may  wait  with  cheerful  heart 

Till  thou,  his  hope,  appear. 


PARTING   WITH  CHRISTIAN  FRIENDS.     203 


PARTING   WITH    CHRISTIAN    FRIENDS. 

WHEN  with  dear  friends  we  have  to  part, 
What  chilling  sadness  fills  the  heart ! 
Too  deep  for  tears  or  sighs  to  show, 
And  only  felt  by  those  who  know 
The  bonds  of  love  which  God  has  given 
On  earth  to  be  confirmed  in  heaven. 

If  such  affection,  then,  may  wait 

In  those  who  dare  anticipate 

An  heirship  to  the  heavenly  throne, 

—  A  glorious  kingdom  for  their  own, — 

How  sad  the  last  kind  words  appear ! 

How  doubly  sad  the  silent  tear ! 

No  parting  word  will  need  be  given 
By  those  who  share  the  bliss  of  heaven, 
Nor  absence  ever  be  deplored 
When  Eden  blest  shall  be  restored. 
But,  in  each  other's  presence  blest, 
Our  happy  souls  will  find  sweet  rest. 

Oh  !  let  the  glorious  day  draw  nigh 
When  every  fear  and  every  sigh, 


204  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

When  every  farewell  tear  shall  cease, 
Our  hearts  enjoy  perpetual  peace. 
Then  on  the  promised  heavenly  shore 
Our  songs  of  praise  shall  fail  no  more. 

Soon  may  we,  on  fair  Salem's  ground, 
With  all  the  ransomed  throng  be  found, 
With  them  to  view  the  better  land, 
Richly  adorned  by  God's  own  hand, 
With  crystal  streams  and  valleys  bright, 
And  all  things  which  can  give  delight. 

Victorious  over  every  foe, 
No  more  shall  they  sad  bondage  know  : 
Their  peace  no  cares  shall  e'er  annoy, 
Their  cheering  hopes  no  power  destroy ; 
Transcendent  joys  shall  e'er  await 
Each  soul  that  enters  Zion's  gate. 

No  doubt  one  pang  shall  e'er  afford 

The  soul  reposing  in  the  Lord  : 

Each  wondrous  scene  shall  then  conspire 

To  keep  alive  the  holy  fire, 

Uniting  hearts  in  perfect  love, 

Enduring  as  the  throne  above. 


CONFIDENCE  IN  GOD.  205 


CONFIDENCE    IN    GOD. 

"Behold,  as  the  eyes  of  servants  look  unto  the  hand  of  their  masters, 
and  as  the  eyes  of  a  maiden  unto  the  hand  of  her  mistress  :  so  our  eyes  wait 
upon  the  Lord  our  God,  until  that  he  have  mercy  upon  us."  — Ps.  cxxiii.  2. 

As  servants  watch  their  master's  hand 

To  know  his  fondest  will, 
So  would  we  wait  at  thy  command, 

Each  mandate  to  fulfil. 

Not  with  a  dread  and  slavish  fear 

Would  we  thus  seek  thy  face  : 
Our  waiting  souls  would  gladly  hear 

Thy  messages  of  grace. 

We  ask  for  mercy,  and  our  eyes 

Look  for  a  sign  from  thee. 
The  gift  is  free  :  thou  bid'st  us  rise, 

And  all  our  sorrows  flee. 

E'er  watchful  for  the  Spirit's  voice, 

We  would  each  call  obey  : 
To  do  thy  will  would  be  our  choice, 

Our  chief  delight  each  day. 
18 


200  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

Thy  promise  makes  our  tasks  most  light, 

Thy  counsels  give  us  joy  ; 
And  every  day  seems  always  bright 

When  spent  in  thy  employ. 

Prostrate  before  our  Master's  feet, 

Submissive  to  his  will, 
We  gladly  stay,  and  love  to  meet 

To  keep  his  precepts  still. 

He  feeds  our  longing  souls  anew, 

He  gives  us  angels'  food  : 
The  great  supply  he  bids  us  view, 

And  leave  inferior  good. 

We  wait  and  feast,  like  friends  we  fare: 

No  strangers  here  abide  ; 
His  humble  followers  subjects  are, 

Who  tarry  at  his  side. 

As  "  sons  "  he  greets  them,  kindred  dear  ; 

No  aliens  here  are  known  ; 
As  servants  they  no  more  appear, 

Their  birthright  now  is  shown. 

Approved  as  "  children,"  we  would  share 

Our  Father's  smiles  below, 
That  soon  with  triumph  we  may  wear 

That  crown  he  will  bestow. 


STILL  HOPE  FOR    THE  BEST.  207 


STILL   HOPE   FOR   THE    BEST. 

THE  morn  of  thy  life  may  prove  sunny  and  clear, 
And  prospects  grow  brighter  with  each  rolling  year  ; 
Sweet  flowers  may  smile  all  thy  pathway  along, 
And  hearts  tuned  in  concert  respond  to  thy  song  ; 
Rejoice  in  thy  pleasures  with  innocence  blest, 
Remember  thy  mercies  :  still  hope  for  the  best. 

The  day  still  advancing,  each  hour  may  prove 
Thy  noon  the  enjoyment  of  faith  and  of  love  ; 
And  hope,  with  its  brilliant  and  beautiful  rays, 
May  lighten  thy  path,  and  give  peace  to  thy  days  : 
In  all  things  give  thanks,  with  contentment  e'er  blest, 
Forget  not  thy  weakness :  still  hope  for  the  best. 

The  shadow  declining,  dark  clouds  may  arise, 
And  tears  of  deep  anguish  may  flow  from  thine  eyes  ; 
The  bramble  may  flourish  where  roses  once  grew, 
And    enemies    boast    where    kind  friends  were   once 

true  : 

Though  thy  heart  may  despond,  by  sad  trials  opprest, 
Faint  not,  nor  be  weary:  still  hope  for  the  best. 


208  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

Though  earth   may  look  dreary,   and  darkness  sur 
round 
Those  scenes  where  we   hoped  joy  and  peace  would 

be  found, 

And  kindness  and  sympathy  fail  to  bestow 
That  comfort  the  sufferer  most  wishes  below : 
Though  thy  days  pass  in  gloom,  by  drear  bondage 

distrest, 
Yet  trust  to  the  future  :  still  hope  for  the  best. 

Thy  pilgrimage,  Christian,  will  soon  have  an  end  ; 
Angel-guards  even  now  on  thy  footsteps  attend, 
To  guide  thee  through  dangers  unseen  on  thy  \vay, 
To  comfort,  to  strengthen,  to  cheer  thee  each  clay. 
Endure,  then,  thy  conflicts  ;  for  soon  thou  shalt  rest. 
The  conquest  is  certain  :  still  hope  for  the  best. 

The  tried  sons  of  Zion  will  shortly  come  forth 

From  east  and  from  west,  from  south  and  from  north, 

To  claim  in  those  mansions  of  glory  above 

That  abode  where  shall  reign  the  perfection  of  love. 

The  warfare  accomplished,  the  saints  then  shall  rest, 

Forever  triumphant  :  then,  hope  for  the  best. 


/  AM  WEARY  OF  STAYING.  2oq 


I    AM    WEARY  OF   STAYING. 

I  AM  weary  of  staying  :  oh  !  soon  let  me  rest 
In  that  beautiful  land  which  is  made  for  the  blest ; 
Let  me  dwell  in  those  mansions  of  glory  and  light, 
Where  pleasures  untold  shall  my  sorrows  requite. 

I  am  weary  of  staying  :  oh  !  let  my  pains  cease  ; 
Let  my  spirit  from  bondage  obtain  its  release ; 
Let  me  revel  forever  in  blessed  repose, 
With  that  ecstatic  bliss  which  the  pure  seraph  knows. 

I  am  weary  of  earth,  and  I  wish  to  go  home  ; 
For  where  lies  my  treasure  no  evils  can  .come  ; 
Though  bright  scenes  are  here  found,  which  invite  my 

delay, 
A  future  more  glorious  forbids  me  to  stay. 

I  am  weary  of  staying  alone  in  thick  gloom, 
Like  a  prisoner  in  darkness  as  still  as  the  tomb  ; 
Bereft  of  warm  sunshine,  which  gladdens  the  day,  — 
Of  the   moon's    silver   beams,  which  chase  shadows 
away. 

18* 


IDYLS   OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


"THY   WORD,   O   GOD!    IS    PURE." 

THY  precious  word,  O  Lord  !  is  pure, 

Thy  precepts  just  and  right : 
Thy  promises,  forever  sure, 

Shine  forth  with  holy  light. 
Like  diamonds  scattered  by  our  way, 

They  lure  our  footsteps  on  : 
We  gain  new  treasures  day  by  day, 

Till  life's  last  goal  is  won. 

Gifts  from  thy  precious,  bounteous  store 

Must  need  be  wise  and  good  : 
We  taste,  and  gladly  ask  for  more  ; 

We  feast  on  angels'  food. 
Still  let  us  from  the  fountain  drink 

Of  living  waters  pure  ; 
Then  faith  will  never  let  us  sink, 

But  peace  and  strength  secure. 

"  A  lamp  "  to  guide  our  erring  feet, 
"  A  light  "  to  cheer  our  way, 

Such  signals  are  most  truly  meet 
To  guard  us  lest  we  stray. 


"  THY  WORD,  O   GOD !  IS  PURE." 

Still  let  the  truth  more  brightly  shine 

Amid  surrounding  gloom  ; 
And,  when  life's  hopes  and  joys  decline, 

Safe  light  us  through  the  tomb. 


211 


212  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


TO    "BIRDIE"    D. 

ONE  morning  when  the  skies  were  fair, 

And  clover-blooms  perfumed  the  air, 

When  hill  and  dell  and  wood  and  lawn 
Rejoiced  to  hail  the  beauteous  dawn, 

An  angel  at  the  portal  stood 

That  guarded  my  dark  solitude  ; 

And  voices  called,  that  I  might  see 
The  vision  which  awaited  me. 

Not  quite  an  angel ;  for  I  knew 

That  golden  hair  and  eyes  of  blue, 

And  dimpled  cheeks,  and  coral  lips, 
Sweet  as  the  dew  a  fairy  sips, 

Proclaimed  her  of  a  mortal  birth,  — 

A  precious  floweret  of  the  earth, 

Who  could  no  song  of  seraph  sing, 
While  folded  lay  an  angel  wing. 

Dear  child,  in  thy  sweet,  winning  face 
The  lines  of  goodness  all  can  trace : 

Thy  generous  heart  full  well  we  know 

Will  oft  thy  little  all  bestow, 


TO  "BIRDIE"  D.  213 

If  but  thy  playmates,  too,  may  share 
The  good  things,  which  thou  think'st  most  rare  ; 
Thy  peace  and  joy  gild  every  smile, 
And  trilling  laughter  charms  meanwhile. 

May  thy  young  life  forever  be 

Pure  as  the  love  which  guardeth  thee ! 

No  tears  bedim  thy  laughing  eyes, 

No  cloud  obscure  thy  sunny  skies ; 
And  when  you  view  heaven's  pearly  gate, 
Where  for  your  coming  angels  wait, 

Then,  spotless,  with  no  stain  of  sin, 

Unfold  your  wings  and  enter  in. 


214  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


AFFLICTIONS. 

AFFLICTIONS  sent  by  God's  command 

Are  messengers  of  love : 
They  bid  us  view  the  chastening  hand, 

And  set  our  hearts  above. 


They  bid  us  leave  our  wandering  ways, 

Our  all  in  him  confide, 
That  we  may  all  our  future  days 

In  constant  trust  abide. 


'Tis  thus  the  Father  shows  his  care 

For  all  his  sons  below  ; 
For  no  true  blessings  would  he  spare 

To  save  from  death  and  woe. 


He  seeks  our  good,  our  greatest  peace, 
And  unknown  bliss  intends  ; 

He  bids  from  sinful  pleasures  cease, 
And  take  the  gifts  he  sends. 


AFFLICTIONS.  215 

Though  present  hopes  and  comforts  flee 

Like  early  dew  away, 
Far  greater  joys  we  soon  shall  see, 

When  dawns  the  promised  day. 

Eternal  peace  and  joy  shall  crown 

Each  humble,  contrite  heart : 
God  will  with  love  each  soul  surround, 

And  bid  all  grief  depart. 


216  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


HYMN. 

O  GLORIOUS  day  of  heavenly  rest ! 

We  hail  each  sign  of  thee : 
With  eager  hearts  and  longing  eyes, 

We  wait  thy  dawn  to  see. 
Those  gilded  rays  of  glorious  light, 

Resplendent  as  the  sun, 
Must  soon  to  every  eye  make  known 

The  holy  coming  One. 

With  cheerful  hope  and  earnest  prayers, 

Still  trusting  in  thy  word, 
We  long  to  see  the  eastern  skies 

Reveal  thine  advent,  Lord  ! 
Then  would  our  waiting  souls  rejoice, 

Could  we  thy  face  behold  : 
In  ages  of  triumphant  bliss, 

Our  joy  could  ne'er  be  told. 

O  blissful  day  of  promise  blest ! 

We  long  to  share  thy  peace, 
When  pain  and  every  ill  shall  end, 

And  pleasures  never  cease  ; 


HYMN.  217 

When  rapturous  joy,  like  holy  fire, 

Shall  swell  our  song  of  praise, 
And  every  wondering,  grateful  heart 

Shall  cheerful  accents  raise. 

Redeemed  beyond  the  reach  of  sin, 

Victorious  o'er  the  grave, 
The  ransomed  shall  with  angel  tongues 

Adore  thy  power  to  save. 
To  golden  lyres  each  voice  shall  tune 

An  anthem  sweet  and  strong : 
"  To  Christ,  who  saved  us  by  his  blood, 

All  glory  shall  belong." 

O  glorious  day  !  with  haste  draw  near  ; 

For  we  would  share  thy  rest  : 
We  long,  from  every  evil  freed, 

To  be  supremely  blest. 
Oh  !  shed  thy  beams  of  glory  forth, 

Dispel  this  gloomy  night, 
And  let  the  earth,  renewed,  rejoice 

To  see  thy  welcome  light. 

19 


2i8  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


A   SPRING    MORNING. 

How  cheering  to  the  careworn  heart 
To  view  the  gladsome  spring  ! 

When  Nature  in  sweet  harmony 
Can  her  new  anthems  sins:. 


The  Earth,  so  long  in  ermine  dressed, 
Puts  on  her  robes  of  green, 

That  she  may,  in  her  fresh  attire, 
Now  grace  a  lovelier  scene. 


Gay  flowers  bloom  along  the  way 
In  which  we  thoughtful  roam, 

And  charm  our  eyes  with  visions  bright, 
Foretelling  scenes  to  come. 


The  warbling  birds  on  every  tree 
Attune  their  little  throats, 

And  stir  sweet  chords  in  every  heart 
Which  lists  their  welcome  notes. 


A   SPRING  MORNING.  219 

Refreshing  odors  fill  the  air 

From  all  the  blooming  trees, 
Which  freely  yield  their  perfumed  gifts 

To  the  soft-whispering  breeze. 

Let  man  awake,  and  view  such  scenes, 

Which  free  to  all  are  given, 
Nor  lose  in  drowsy  hours  such  joys,  — 

The  kindly  gifts  of  Heaven. 

'Tis  for  the  happiness  of  all 

That  birds  with  soaring  wing 
Their  anthems  pour  in  accents  pure, 

Their  sweetest  tributes  bring. 

'Tis  for  the  eye  of  every  one 

The  fields  and  fragrant  bowers 
Are  in  their  richest  garments  dressed, 

To  charm  such  holy  hours. 

Then  let  us  all  these  gifts  enjoy 

With  cheerful  gratitude, 
And  warmly  praise  their  Maker,  God, 

In  accents  oft  renewed. 


220  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


I   LONG    TO    GO   HOME. 

I  LONG  to  go  home  ;  for  too  long  I  delay 
In  a  strange  foreign  land,  where,  by  night  and  by  day, 
Temptations  most  grievous  my  progress  withstand, 
As  onward  I  haste  to  the  beautiful  land. 


I  long  to  go  home  ;  for  I  gladly  would  rest 
From  evils  by  which  I  have  long  been  distrest : 
As  a  stranger  and  pilgrim,  I  look  with  delight 
For  the  end  of  my  journey  with  prospects  most  bright. 


I  long  to  go  home  ;  for  I  would  not  delay 
To  add  to  my  march  but  the  length  of  a  day : 
The  glimpse  I  have  had  of  that  glorious  land 
Makes  me  eager  amid  all  its  beauties  to  stand. 


The  night  is  far  spent  with  its  sorrows  and  fears, 
Where  strength  has  been  gained  amid  trials  and  tears : 
The  day  is  just  breaking,  —  the  sun  I  behold 
Through  fair  shining  portals  its  glories  unfold. 


/  LONG    TO   GO  HOME.  .         221 

The  cloudlets  of  grief  here  no  longer  stay, 
As  his  bright,  shining  arrows  chase  darkness  away  : 
My  mind's  sky  is  clear,  like  a  rose-tinted  morn, 
When  flowers  look  upward  where  beauty  is  born. 

I  long  to  ascend  to  my  dear  Father's  home, 

Where  his  children,  all  gathered,  with  transport  shall 

come  ; 

With  hearts  firm  united  by  love's  blissful  chain, 
Whose  links  death  can  never  dissever  again. 

I  rise  on  the  pinions  of  faith  like  a  dove 
Bound  homeward  to  carry  its  message  of  love  : 
I  gaze  on  the  prize  as  it  glistens  afar, 
Encircled  with  light,  as  a  true  guiding  star. 

I  eagerly  long  that  blest  country  to  see, 

Where  glorified  spirits  are  waiting  for  me, 

And  meet  with  those  loved  ones,  who,  little  before, 

Passed  gently  away  to  the  heavenly  shore. 

Already  there  falls  on  my  glad,  listening  ear, 
Pure  anthems  celestial,  most  welcome  to  hear  ; 
And  I  long  to  be  swelling  the  chorus  sublime 
Which  shall  echo,  as  now,  through  the  portals  of  time. 

My  journey  is  ending ;  and  almost  at  home 
I  hear  angel  voices,  like  blest  spirits,  come 
To  beckon  me  on  to  that  heavenly  rest, 
Where  all  trouble  shall  end,  and  the  weary  are  blest. 
19* 


222  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


CHRISTIAN   PILGRIM'S   EXPECTATION. 

WHILE  dark  and  ever-changing  scenes 
Beset  the  weary  pilgrim's  way, 

How  joyful  does  he  hail  the  gleams 
Of  heavenly,  light-bespeaking  day. 


When  in  deep  trials  oft  he  meets 
With  sad  affliction's  withering  hand, 

His  burdened  soul  with  rapture  greets 
Each  token  of  the  promised  land. 


By  faith  he  views  his  sufferings  o'er, 
And  all  his  weary  wanderings  cease  ; 

While  prospects  brightening  more  and  more 
Shall  welcome  him  to  endless  peace. 


Fair  Eden's  bowers  appear  in  bloom, 
Which  blossom  ne'er  to  fade  away  ; 

Whose  tinted  flowers  of  rich  perfume 
Shall  live  throughout  eternal  day. 


CHRISTIAN  PILGRIM'S  EXPECTATION.    223 

No  "  pricking  brier  nor  grieving  thorn  " 
Shall  more  afflict  fair  Zion's  sons  ; 

The  sacred,  blest,  sabbatic  morn 

Shall  bring  release  to  ransomed  ones. 

All  tears  will  then  be  wiped  away, 

Sickness  and  death,  their  sorrow  o'er, 
Angelic  beauty  ne'er  decay, 

And  gladness  reign  forevermore. 

Then  shall  the  earth  renewed  rejoice 

That  "  former  things  "  have  passed  away, 

And  groaning  Nature's  stifled  voice 
Shall  hail  the  long-expected  day. 

In  expectation  still  we  wait 

For  Zion's  coming  to  be  known  ; 
When  saints  shall  claim  their  priestly  state, 

And  Christ  shall  reign  on  David's  throne. 


224  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


BE   STEADFAST. 

BE  steadfast  when  faith  soars  majestic  and  free, 
And  gains  the  blest  world  of  delight, 

When  carnal  allurements  and  temptations  flee, 
And  earth  fades  away  from  the  sight. 

Then  hope,  like  an  anchor,  holds  steady  and  sure, 
Though  tempests  and  storms  may  arise  : 

The  passage  is  certain,  the  harbor  secure, 
The  prospect,  how  blest  to  our  eyes  ! 

Be  steadfast !  though  darkness  prevails  o'er  thy  way, 

Though  grieved  in  adversity's  night. 
Behind  the  dark  curtain,  which  hides  thee  from  clay, 

Are  regions  of  heavenly  light. 

Though  doubts  may  oppress  thee,  and  cause  thee  to 
fear, 

"  Be  steadfast,"  and  "  hope  to  the  end  :  " 
When  deepest  thy  sorrows,  then  Jesus  is  near, 

With  promise  and  grace  to  defend. 


THE    VOICE  OF  THE  SHEPHERD.          225 


THE   VOICE   OF   THE    SHEPHERD. 

THE  voice  of  the  Shepherd  speaks  kindly  to  me, 
Though  in  the  thick  darkness  no  image  I  see  : 
His  accents  are  laden  with  mercy  and  love, 
Melodiously  sweet  as  the  music  above. 


When  in  the  dark  valley  of  sadness  I  roam, 
Afflicted,  desponding,  away  from  my  home, 
I  list  'mid  the  stillness  those  glad  tones  to  hear, 
Which  strengthens  my  heart,  and  dispels  every  fear. 


While  here  a  lone  traveller  'mid  sorrows  and  fears, 
Whose  burden  is  known  by  the  measure  of  years, 
A  message  most  welcome  is  whispered  to  me, 
"  The  King  in  his  beauty  "  thine  own  eye  shall  see. 


What  though  fairest  flowers  are  now  hid  from  my  view, 
And  meadows  all  sparkling  with  pure  crystal  dew, 
Or  beautiful  landscapes,  afford  no  delight, 
Their  multiplied  charms  all  veiled  from  my  sight  ! 


226  ID  VI S  OF  STKA  WBERR  Y  BANK. 

What  though  gorgeous  sunsets  fade  slowly  away, 
Like  the  kind  parting  smile  of  a  fair  summer  day, 
And  the  curtains  of  night  overshadow  the  earth, 
Embroidered  with  gems,  as  when  first  it  had  birth  ! 

'Tis  not  for  my  joy  that  the  bright  sunshine  gleams, 
Nor  the  moon's  silver  lips  kiss  the  valleys  and  streams  ; 
But  in  the  deep  silence  my  faith  can  behold 
The  home  of  the  blest,  where  new  beauties  unfold. 

In  that  fair  "  better  land,"  where  the  ransomed  shall 

dwell, 

Shall  new  glories  celestial  all  shadows  dispel, 
And  the  voice  of  the  Shepherd  enrapture  the  soul, 
While  ages  on  ages  unceasingly  roll. 


THE  SOUL'S  ANCHOR.  227 


THE   SOUL'S   ANCHOR. 

OUR  life  is  like  the  changing  sea, 
Whose  foaming  billows  rise  and  fall 

Obedient  to  the  great  decree 

Which  governs  all  things  great  and  small. 


But  though  its  surges  high  may  roll, 
And  wildly  toss  our  trembling  bark, 

Yet  hope,  the  anchor  of  the  soul, 

Shall  hold  us  safe,  though  night  be  dark. 


That  power  which  rules  the  raging  sea, 
And  bids  the  waves  in  quiet  sleep, 

Shall  quickly  make  all  shadows  flee  ; 
While  holy  angels  near  us  keep. 


His  love  shall  cheer  our  roughest  way 
When  to  our  hearts  no  joy  appears ; 

Imparting  comfort  day  by  day, 

Which  soon  dispels  foreboding  fears. 


228  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

When  trials,  like  thick  clouds,  arise 
In  gloomy  sorrow's  dismal  night, 

And  darken  e'en  our  happiest  skies, 

When  life's  bright  star  would  shine  most  bright, 

Still  trusting  to  our  pilot  sure, 
We  eager  watch  the  dawn  of  day, 

When  heavenly  light,  with  rays  most  pure, 
Shall  chase  all  shadows  far  away. 

In  sailing  o'er  life's  trackless  main, 
Where  golden  sunbeams  peaceful  play, 

As  if  with  gems  at  home  again, 

Which  sparkle  through  the  livelong  day, 

How  oft  our  prospects,  seeming  fair, 

Are  blighted  like  a  rose  at  noon, 
Whose  dying  fragrance  charms  the  air, 

Whose  blushing  petals  wither  soon. 

E'en  so  our  fondest  hopes  decay 
When  to  our  hearts  they  seem  secure  ; 

And  cherished  friends  fast  pass  away, 
Their  virtues  left  as  incense  pure. 

But  faith  still  looks  beyond  the  gloom 
To  blest  Elysian  scenes  outspread, 

Where  beauty  yet  again  shall  bloom, 

When  quickened  from  the  slumbering  dead. 


THE  SOUL'S  ANCHOR. 

When  unbelief  would,  like  a  cloud, 
Obscure  each  heavenly,  blissful  ray, 

Which  would,  like  blessed  spirits,  crowd 
Around  our  pathway  day  by  day, 

Then  Hope  lifts  up  the  darkening  veil 
That  hides  the  welcome  light  above, 

Whose  holy  influence  ne'er  shall  fail, 
Because  that  light  is  crowned  with  love. 


229 


230  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


THE    LAND    OF   THE   BLEST. 

How  often  I  think  of  the  land  of  the  blest, 
Where  the  pilgrim,  so  faint  and  so  weary,  shall  rest 
From  his  labor,  his  troubles,  his  fears,  and  his  care, 
Forever  content  with  the  peace  which  flows  there, 
Like  a  river  abounding,  unfailing,  and  sure, 
As  the  words  which  have  promised  shall  ever  endure  ! 
His  journey  so  rough  through  this  wilderness  state 
He  now  longs  to  end  at  the  bright  pearly  gate, 
Where  his  burden  so  grievous  shall  quickly  be  lost, 
Which  often  much  sorrow  and  anguish  has  cost ; 
Where  blest  angels  attend  on  their  errands  of  love, 
E'er  rejoicing  to  guide  through  the  mansions  above, 
Oft  folding  their  wings  in  their  gladness  to  stay 
To  rehearse  some  new  theme  causing  transport  each 

day; 

Where  sweet  music  celestial  so  charms  the  glad  ear 
As  mortals  ne'er  dreamed  in  bright  visions  to  hear  ; 
Where  the  river  of  life,  with  its  pure  crystal  sheen, 
Gayly  dances  along  with  its  blessings  between 
Those  prophetical  trees  with  their  foliage  so  fair, 
And  their  twelve  kinds  of  fruit  which  monthly  they 

bear, 


THE  LAND   OF  THE  BLEST.  231 

E'er  distilling  rich  odors  from  blossom  and  leaf, 
And  a  pure  healthful  balm  for  the  nation's  relief  ; 
Where  pleasures  unnumbered  and  beauties  untold, 
'Mid  walls  richly  jewelled  and  pavements  of  gold, 
Shall  constantly  burst  on  his  wondering  eyes 
With  the  unrivalled  bliss  of  that  blest  paradise. 

No  tears  will  be  there  ;  for  their  fount  will  be  dry, 

And  no  sorrow  to  cause  e'en  one  murmuring  sigh ; 

No  long  sickness  to  waste,  and  no  pain  to  distress  ; 

No  misfortunes  to  mourn,  and  no  foes  to  oppress ; 

No  errors  to  grieve,  nor  temptations  annoy  ; 

No  sad,  silent  grief  to  diminish  our  joy  ; 

Not  a  long,  painful  clay,  nor  a  wearisome  night ; 

No  weakness  of  vision,  nor  losing  of  sight ; 

No  privations  nor  losses  nor  evils  to  bear ; 

Nor  forebodings  of  ill,  —  the  first-fruits  of  despair. 

All,  all  will  be  tranquil  and  joyous  and  bright 

In  the  beautified  earth  filled  with  glory  and  light. 

There  no  grief  shall  e'er  banish  our  pleasures  away ; 
No  perplexing  anxieties  prolong  their  delay  ; 
No  absence  from  friends,  for  all  partings  are  o'er ; 
No  unguarded  sentence  in  vain  to  deplore ; 
No  sin  to  molest  our  calm  peace  and  content, 
Where  no  chastening  rod  of  affliction  is  sent ; 
There  envy  and  hatred  no  more  can  annoy, 
Nor  the  enemy,  Death,  our  fond  hopes  e'er  destroy: 
Then  most  truly  that  land  is  a  land  of  sweet  rest, 
Where  the  weary  shall  find  a  bright  home  with  the 
blest  ; 


232 


IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


And  I,  as  a  pilgrim,  now  burdened,  would  long 
With  the  ransomed  to  raise  loud  the  conqueror's  song, 
Who  shall  triumph  forever  o'er  death  and  the  grave, 
And  bright  crowns  of  rejoicing  eternally  have, 
With  blest  angels  to  share  in  the  conquest  above, 
And  with  Jesus  himself  in  the  Eden  of  love. 


VIOLETS.  233 


VIOLETS. 

EARTH  so  long,  long  dressed  in  ermine, 

Prized  as  with  a  royal  care, 
Now  has  changed  her  wintry  mantle 

For  her  emerald  robes  most  fair. 
Lakes  have  oped  their  crystal  eyelids, 

Peeping  out  the  scene  to  view ; 
While,  impatient  in  their  bondage, 

Beauteous  things  have  lain  perdue. 

Well  I  love  the  blooming  spring-time, 

Coming  with  his  sweet  bequest, 
—  Fragrant  leaves  and  blushing  blossoms, 

To  be  welcomed  as  a  guest. 
Beauty  then  unbidden  lingers 

Round  each  petal,  leaf,  and  stem, 
Prized  by  those  who  see  their  glory 

As  a  bride  a  brilliant  gem. 

Then  I  love  to  wander  freely, 
When  the  new-born  light  appears 

Through  the  meads  and  flowery  valleys, 
As  in  boyhood's  early  years. 


234  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

Drinking  in  the  balmy  fragrance 
Wafted  by  the  gentle  breeze, 

As  an  offering  pure  and  welcome 
From  the  ever-whispering  trees. 

Wild-flowers  then  with  joy  I  gather, 

With  the  crystal  dewdrops  wet, 
Showing  preference,  and  most  gladly, 

To  the  modest  violet. 
Unpretending,  unassuming, 

These  my  little  pets  are  seen, 
Quite  unconscious  of  the  glory 

Which  adorns  the  hillocks  green. 

Often  crushed  beneath  my  footsteps 

When  on  schoolboy's  rambling  tour, 
Even  then  my  heart  yearned  kindly 

All  their  beauty  to  restore  ; 
Now  I  prize  them  more  than  ever, 

Glistening  in  the  morning  ray, 
On  their  mossy  turrets  posted, 

Sentinels  to  hail  the  day. 

So  true  goodness  must  we  cherish, 

When,  unconscious  of  its  power, 
Wre  behold  a  charming  fragrance 

Sweet  distilling  hour  by  hour  ; 
Blessing  all  with  generous  bounty, 

Soon  reflected  from  above, 
Leading  us  with  grateful  praises 

To  the  Source  of  purest  love. 


TO  A  FRIEND  ON  HER  BIRTHDAY.        235 


TO   A   FRIEND   ON    HER   BIRTHDAY. 

I  KNEW  a  maiden  young  and  gay, 
Who  used  to  wish  her  time  away  ; 
Who  looked  beyond  those  joyous  hours, 
Which  bloom  like  choicest,  sweetest  flowers, 
That  scattered  incense  o'er  life's  way, 
Replete  with  blessings  day  by  day, 
And  led  the  bounding  spirits  on 
To  grasp  new  joys  ere  old  were  gone  ;  — 
Who  looked  beyond  those  sunny  days, 
Where  no  dark  cloud  e'er  hid  the  rays 
Of  golden  light,  which,  pure  and  rare, 
Then  gilded  all  things  bright  and  fair  ; 
When  angels,  borne  on  wings  of  love, 
Brought  peaceful  tidings  from  above, 
And  whispered  to  the  willing  ear 
Those  pleasant  tones  it  loved  to  hear, 
And  charmed  the  soul  with  secret  peace, 
Whose  blessed  memories  never  cease  ;  — 
Who  looked  beyond  the  bud  of  hope 
For  brighter  prospects  to  spring  up 
(Which,  if  it  fairer,  quicker  grew, 
Would  bear  the  stinging  brier  too), 


236  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

Whose  leaves,  if  they  should  chance  to  bloom, 
Might  fall  as  tears  around  its  tomb, — 
All  fading  types  to  plainly  show 
Our  cherished  hopes  thus  fade  below  ;  — 
Who  looked  adown  the  stream  of  life, 
Whence  come  stern  care  and  toil  and  strife, 
For  rarer  gems  of  love  and  truth 
Than  those  she  found  in  early  youth. 

Alas  !  how  fast  time  speeds  away, 
With  all  its  cares,  from  day  to  day ! 
With  all  its  joys  and  sorrows  too, 
Whose  cup  when  drained  is  filled  anew 
With  mingled  contents,  white  and  red, 
Of  joys  that  live,  of  hopes  now  dead  ; 
Like  sunshine  on  the  mountain-cone, 
We  see  it  now,  —  behold,  'tis  gone  ! 
While  dreary  shadows  show  that  day 
Has  rolled  its  golden  car  away  ; 
Though  dews  of  grief  should  freely  fall 
Not  one  bright  beam  could  they  recall. 
We  gaze  upon  the  flowing  stream,  — 
A  thing  of  life,  no  idle  dream  ; 
Our  boats  are  launched  upon  its  wave, 
We  cannot  pause,  till  at  the  grave 
Our  joys  and  hopes,  our  smiles  and  tears, 
Our  sad  regrets,  our  gloomy  fears, 
Are  buried  in  that  boundless  sea, 
That  endless,  vast  eternity. 


THE  SECRET  WISH.  237 


THE   SECRET   WISH. 

A  MAIDEN  sat  beside  a  stream  : 

Her  face  was  bright  and  fair  ; 
The  bloom  of  health  vied  with  the  flowers 

Which  twined  her  glossy  hair. 
Free  as  its  crystal  waters  flowed 

With  mellow  music  past, 
Her  joyous  spirits  knew  that  peace 

Which  might  not  always  last. 

A  cloud  passed  o'er  that  sunny  sky, 

A  shadow  o'er  the  stream  ; 
A  secret  thought  possessed  her  breast, 

Which  marred  her  happy  dream  : 
"  I  wish  I  were  no  more  a  child," 

The  little  maiden  said, 
"  Nor  this  my  home  amid  the  flowers, 

Where  fairy  footsteps  tread. 

"  I  wish  I  were  a  woman  fair, 

And  dwelt  in  stately  hall, 
With  hosts  of  servants  ever  near 

To  heed  my  slightest  call ; 


238  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

With  wealth  in  rich  profusion  there, 
To  give  me  constant  bliss, 

And  no  more  dwell  in  lowly  cot, 
'Mid  rural  scenes  like  this." 

The  stream  still  danced  most  gayly  on, 

And  kissed  the  pebbly  shore, 
While  lilies  marked  its  azure  track 

With  fragrance  as  before  : 
Around  the  humble  doorway  still 

The  honeysuckle  grew, 
Replete  with  fragrance,  and  as  sweet 

As  Araby  e'er  knew. 

Years  rolled  away  :  no  little  feet 

Now  danced  upon  the  lawn  ; 
No  ringing  laugh  nor  merry  song 

Awoke  each  happy  dawn  ; 
No  little  hands  were  busy  now 

Among  the  forest  bowers, 
For  youth  with  its  pure  joys  had  fled, 

As  incense  from  the  flowers. 

Amid  the  city's  wearied  throng, 

Oppressed  with  toil  and  strife, 
Where  numerous  ills,  like  dreaded  foes, 

Increase  the  cares  of  life  ; 
Where  wealth  itself,  with  all  its  train, 

Cannot  true  peace  supply, 
I  saw  a  being,  proud  and  fair  ; 

And  thus  I  heard  her  sigh  :  — 


THE  SECRET  WISH.  239 

"  My  life  is  one  of  discontent, 

No  sunshine  lights  my  skies  : 
Just  when  I  gain  some  promised  good, 

The  pleasure  quickly  flies. 
My  days  are  filled  with  bitter  grief, 

My  cherished  favorites  die  : 
I  call  them  back  with  many  a  tear, 

But  hear  no  kind  reply. 

"  I  long  beside  my  native  stream 

Once  more  in  peace  to  roam, 
And  drink  anew  those  sweet  delights 

Which  graced  my  happy  home. 
I  long  to  hear  the  zephyrs  pure 

Soft  whispering  through  the  trees, 
And  feast  upon  rich  odors  borne 

By  every  gentle  breeze. 

"  Oh  !  give  me  back  my  youthful  days, 

—  Those  joyous,  happy  hours,  — 
When,  free  as  birds  upon  the  wing, 

I  roamed  among  the  flowers. 
Youth's  rosy  goal  I  since  have  gained, 

But  found  both  care  and  pain  ; 
And  now  I  have  but  one  fond  wish,  — 

Would  I  were  young  again  !  " 


240  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


MORNING  JOY. 

"  Weeping  may  endure  for  a  night,  but  joy  cometh  in  the  morning." 

WHEN  the  dark  clouds  of  sorrow  spread  over  life's  sky, 
And  no  sun  of  gladness  beams  forth  from  on  high, 
Then  the  heart  full  of  sadness,  and  heavy  with  grief, 
Opes  the  fountain  of  tears  in  the  hope  of  relief. 

Though  most  weary  and  faint  in  our  pilgrimage  here, 
And  the  rough  way  be  wet  with  the  oft-fallen  tear, 
Yet  the  offerings  thus  given  shall  not  be  in  vain, 
But  as  pearls  of  rejoicing  be  numbered  again. 

The  fairest  of  flowers  in  silence  may  bloom, 
And  in  secret  distribute  the  richest  perfume  ; 
Even  so,  when  afflictions  our  chalice  may  fall, 
Then  the  sweetest  of  comforts  for  us  may  distil. 

Brightest  gems  often  lie  where  no  footsteps  may  go, 
Which  need  but  the  light  all  their  value  to  show  ; 
And  those  spots  which  the  valley  of  tears  often  seem 
Are  the  mountains  of  peace  seen  in  rapturous  dream. 


MORNIA7G  JOYS.  241 

Like  a  stranger  benighted  in  darkness  most  drear, 
Where  no  kind  word  is  heard,  and  no  bright  stars 

appear, 

The  soul  in  its  weariness  pines  for  the  day 
Which  shall  banish  the  shadows  that  obscured  his 

lone  way. 

Though  the  night  may  be  long,  and  trials  and  woes 
Oft  encompass  our  path,  and  disturb  our  repose, 
A  blest  morn  shall  soon  dawn,  when  ineffable  joy 
Shall  insure  that  true  peace  which  no  time  can  destroy. 

The  glorious  light  of  that  heavenly  day, 
Which  shall  burst  on  our  sight  with  its  unfading  ray, 
Shall  reveal  in  its  splendor  the  proofs  of  that  love 
Which  has  guided  our  feet  while  we  journeyed  above. 

Though  the  hand  be  unseen  which  shall  glide  through 

the  gloom, 

And  no  voices  be  heard  as  we  march  to  the  tomb, 
Yet  we  know  that  His  presence  is  near  to  defend 
Who  has  promised  forever  His  flock  to  attend. 

When  the  night  shall  be  past,  and  immortal  we  stand 
By  the  river  of  life  in  that  beautiful  land, 
We  shall  find  that  those  trials  which  caused  our  delay 
Were  but  angels  of  mercy  encamped  by  the  way. 

Still  confiding,  still  trusting,  and  knowing  no  fear, 
We  will  cling  to  those  hopes  we  have  ever  held  dear, 
Till  the  morning  shall  break,  and  the  sun  shall  arise 
On  the  mansions  prepared  for  the  just  in  the  skies. 


242  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


THE   ROSE   BY  THE   WAYSIDE. 

A  LITTLE  rose  bloomed  in  the  way 
O'er  which  I  roamed  one  sunny  day : 

It  looked  so  fair, 
I  wondered  why  alone  it  grew, 
And  why  so  long  concealed  from  view, 

While  nestling  there. 


Its  crimson  petals  wide  outspread 
A  grateful  perfume  freely  shed  ; 

Dripping  with  dew, 
It  seemed  in  whispered  tones  to  say, 
"  Shunning  the  glances  of  the  gay, 

I  bloomed  for  you. 


"  The  sunshine  kissed  my  petals  gay, 
Soon  as  I  peeped  to  hail  the  day, 

With  blushes  red  ; 

I  was  content,  though  hid  from  view : 
No  other  footsteps  this  way  drew, 

By  beauty  led." 


THE  ROSE  BY  THE   WAYSIDE.  243 

I  claimed  the  treasure,  pure  and  fair, 
As  all  mine  own  :  with  special  care 

I  kept  it  long : 

It  said  sweet  sayings  o'er  and  o'er  ; 
But  one  bright  morn  it  spoke  no  more,  — 

Its  leaves  were  gone. 

Thus  in  the  varied  paths  of  life, 
Amid  its  cares,  its  toils,  its  strife, 

We  often  roam : 

Then  some  sweet  memories  chain  us  here, 
Some  holy  .thoughts  dispel  all  fear, 

And  guide  us  home. 

And  when  earth's  charms,  like  withered  flowers, 
Amid  afflictions  painful  hours, 

No  longer  cheer, 
A  holy  peace,  a  quiet  joy, 
Which  unbelief  can  ne'er  destroy, 

Brings  heaven  near. 


244  IDYLS  Of  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 


A   MORNING   WALK. 

WHEN  the  sun  is  brightly  beaming 

In  the  morning  sky, 
And,  awaking  from  their  dreaming, 

Wild-flowers  look  on  high, 
Violets  blue, 
All  wet  with  dew, 
Bid  our  roaming  footsteps  linger, 
As  each  points  with  jewelled  finger 

To  the  azure  clouds,  which  seem 

Fairy-lands  of  which  they  dream. 

Birdlings  with  their  bosoms  yearning 

For  the  days  of  spring, 
To  their  summer  homes  returning, 

From  the  south-land  bring 
Melodies  sweet, 
With  love  replete, 

Leading  our  best  thoughts  to  heaven, 
As  sweet  incense  gladly  given 

To  that  God  who  guards  us  all, 

Watching  e'en  the  sparrow's  fall. 


A   MORNING    WALK.  245 

Flowerets  in  the  woodland  breathing 

Silent  words  of  prayer, 
To  the  passing  breeze  bequeathing 

Fragrance  pure  and  rare, 
Bring  to  us  joy 
Without  alloy, 

As  with  pleasure  we  bend  o'er  them, 
Humbly  worshipping  before  them, 

Reading  on  each  petal  fair 

Precious  truths  abiding  there. 

Music  from  pure  fountains  gushing, 

Sparkling  clear  and  free, 
O'er  the  pebbly  pavements  rushing, 

Toward  the  deep-blue  sea, 
Falls  on  my  ear, 
Listening  to  hear, 
As  in  days  of  happy  childhood, 
When  I  roamed  far  in  the  wildwood, 

Gathering  lilies  from  the  brooks, 

Floating  in  fair  shady  nooks. 

Thus  in  Memory's  halls  I  wander 

Where  I  used  to  tread, 
And  in  silence  often  ponder 

On  scenes  long,  long  fled, 
Wishing  to  view 
Sunshine  and  dew, 
On  some  bright  and  lovely  morning, 
When  sweet  flowers,  the  meads  adorning, 

Breathe  sweet  odors  on  the  air, 

Giving  blessing  everywhere. 

21* 


246  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

Near  "  still  waters  "  soon  forever 

Joyous  feet  shall  stand, 
Where  earth's  fairest  scenes  shall  never 

Fade  in  that  blest  land  ; 
Where'er  for  thee 
Glory  shall  be, 

On  the  blooming  plains  of  Eden, 
'Neath  the  brilliant  skies  of  heaven, 

Untold  bliss  awaits  each  soul, 

Sighing  for  that  shining  goal. 


TIME'S  CHANGES.  247 


TIME'S   CHANGES 

TIME  is  flitting  fast  away, 
And  must  close  life's  changeful  day 
Morning  clouds  all  tinged  with  red, 
Find  at  eve  their  curtained  bed, 
Where,  in  sighs  and  tears  forlorn, 
Mourn  they  glories  of  the  morn.  , 


Pleasures  here  may  bloom  a  while, 
And  our  saddest  thoughts  beguile, 
Yielding  up  their  treasures  rare 
To  delight  life's  morning  air ; 
But  their  province  soon  must  close, 
Like  the  clouds,  in  night's  repose. 


Stars  may  sparkle  bright  on  high 
Gemming  all  the  midnight  sky, 
Soothing  thoughts  all  quiet  bringing, 
Unknown  vespers  silent  singing  ; 
Yet  must  fail  their  gentle  ray 
Quickly  at  the  rising  day  ; 


248  JD  YLS  OF  S  TRA  WBERR  Y 


So  earth's  scenes  may  brightly  glare, 
Tempting  with  their  winning  air, 
'Mid  the  gloom  their  light  revealing, 
Purer  treasures  often  stealing, 
Showing  oft  their  secret  power 
False,  when  comes  life's  evening  hour, 
Causing  oft  the  midnight  tear, 
Secret  falling,  none  to  hear, 
Perishing  like  stars  of  night 
Soon  before  a  holier  light. 

All  is  changing  here  below  : 
Earth's  delights,  —  a  fleeting  show  ; 
Flowers  bloom  to  droop  and  fade 
On  green  lawn,  in  valley's  shade  ; 
Winds  a  mournful  requiem  sing  ; 
Bursting  clouds  their  tribute  bring  ; 
Beauty  reigns,  too  soon  it  dies, 
Though  passing  sweet  its  mysteries  ; 
Friends  are  found  who  love  and  bless, 
Death  soon  makes  the  number  less  ; 
All  is  changing  like  the  sea  ; 
Pleasures  come,  as  quickly  flee, 
Perishing,  to  stay  no  more 
Than  the  bubbles  on  the  shore. 

But  upon  the  shining  shore 
Beauty  lives  to  die  no  more  ; 
Flowers  bloom  in  brighter  dress, 
Glorious  with  their  loveliness  ; 
Friendship's  bonds  no  grief  will  sever, 
Pain  and  tears  be  lost  forever, 


TIME'S  CHANGES. 

Music  linger  on  the  ear, 
In  such  notes  as  angels  hear, 
Glory  from  the  throne  above 
Filling  all  with  peace  and  love 
All  are  happy,  all  are  blest, 
In  that  blissful  world  of  rest. 


249 


250  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  DANK. 


THE   LITTLE    FAVORITE. 

MY  favorite  was  a  charming  pet 

But  just  four  summers  old  ; 
Her  merry  laugh  is  ringing  yet, 

Her  worth  was  never  told. 
A  lily  rested  on  her  brow, 

A  rose  upon  her  cheek  ; 
But,  though  as  pure  as  spotless  snow, 

Death  came  the  flower  to  seek. 

Her  eyes  were  of  a  heavenly  blue, 

So  bright,  so  soft,  so  fair, 
That  thoughts  within  her  heart  so  true 

Were  read  most  quickly  there. 
Rich  clustering  curls,  where  golden  light 

Had  found  a  dwelling-place, 
Hung  o'er  her  dimpled  shoulders  white 

With  most  bewitching  grace. 

The  presence  of  this  fairy  bright 
Brought  sunshine  home  to  all ; 

The  echo  of  her  footsteps  light 
Was  music  in  the  hall. 


THE  LITTLE  FAVORITE.  251 

I  left  "  my  little  rosebud  "  fair 

At  play  with  other  flowers, 
And  hoped  no  cloud  of  sadness  there 

Would  shade  life's  purest  hours. 

I  saw  the  darling  as  she  lay 

Upon  her  bed  of  pain, 
And  wore  the  weary  hours  away, 

Inviting  sleep  again. 
I  saw  the  signet  on  her  brow, 

Of  one  who  knew  his  own  : 
Her  friends  were  weeping  sadly  now, 

Nor  mourned  they  quite  alone. 

'Twas  twilight  hour  ;  the  room  was  still, 

And  smooth  her  little  bed  : 
A  cloud  of  sombre  gloom  and  chill 

O'er  all  things  seemed  to  spread. 
While  gazing  round,  the  truth  was  shown 

In  toys  and  vacant  chair,  — 
An  angel  from  that  home  had  flown 

That  had  abided  there. 

Her  little  hands  upon  her  breast 

In  peaceful  quiet  lay, 
As  if  she  thus  had  sunk  to  rest 

Upon  a  summer  day. 
The  smile  upon  her  face  was  seen, 

Which  she  was  wont  to  wear  ; 
As  if  she  thus  in  dreams*serene 

Found  pleasure  everywhere. 


252  IDYLS  OF- STRAWBERRY  BANK 

An  angel  bright  had  kindly  come 

Adown  the  starry  skies 
To  guide  her  to  that  glorious  home 

Where  beauty  never  dies. 
She  knew  the  blest  one  when  he  came, 

With  shining  garments  white  ; 
For  she  before  had  seen  the  same 

In  vision  of  the  night. 

But  in  life's  mingled  cup  is  known 

A  precious,  heavenly  balm, 
Which,  when  the  heart  is  sad  and  lone, 

With  soothing  power  can  charm  ; 
Blest  sunshine  then,  through  cheerless  gloom, 

Reveals  a  brighter  day, 
And  faith  beholds  beyond  the  tomb 

That  home  where  angels  stay. 


YES,    THEN  PLL    THINK  OF  YOU.         253 


YES,    THEN    I'LL   THINK    OF   YOU. 

WHEN  morn  with  rosy  beams  is  seen 
To  kiss  the  dew  from  leaf  and  flower, 

And  bid  the  tinted  roses  spread 

Their  petals  fair  to  grace  the  bower, 

Then,  when  I  see  each  lovely  hue,  — 

Yes,  tluen,  my  friend,  I'll  think  of  you. 

When  night  with  sombre  curtain  hides 
The  golden  beams  of  life  and  light, 

When  sparkling  gems  attract  our  eyes 
With  brilliant  rays,  like  diamonds  bright. 

When  first  thy  favorite  star  I  view,  — 

Yes,  then,  my  friend,  I'll  think  of  you. 

When  springtime  comes,  all  gay  and  bright, 

Rejoicing  in  its  new-born  life, 
When  songsters  tune  their  little  throats 

To  strains  unknown  to  mortal  strife, 
When  earth  is  dressed  in  robes  most  new,  — 
Yes,  then,  my  friend,  I'll  think  of  you. 


254  IDYLS  OF  S TRA WBERR Y  BANK. 

When  scenes  of  pleasure  cheer  my  heart, 
And  tranquil  thoughts  afford  delight, 

When  beauteous  prospects,  decked  with  flowers, 
Can  charm  the  mind  and  please  the  sight, 

Where'er  such  lovely  scenes  I  view, 

Yes,  then,  my  friend,  I'll  think  of  you. 

When  in  retirement  memory  steals 

To  happy  days,  forever  past ; 
When  every  hour  new  joys  increased, 

Too  sweet  were  they  to  longer  last,  — 
Yes,  then,  when  friends  their  pledge  renew, 
I  love  to  think,  my  friend,  of  you. 

When  lonely  hours,  all  filled  with  gloom, 
Exert  their  power  to  grieve  the  mind  ; 

When,  if  one  voice  I  then  should  hear, 
A  source  of  peace  I  soon  should  find  ; 

When  kindred  hearts  are  far  and  few, 

Then  most,  my  friend,  I'll  think  of  you. 


A  SILENT  TOKEN.  255 


A   SILENT   TOKEN. 

THIS  friendly  sign 

I  soon  divine, 
Though  not  a  smile  be  seen, 

Or  kindly  word 

In  darkness  heard 
At  twilight  hour  serene. 


'Tis  sunshine  bright, 

Of  mellow  light, 
Which  shines  amid  the  gloom, 

And  warms  the  heart 

With  magic  art, 
Nor  fades  in  airs  of  doom. 


E'en  as  the  dew, 
Of  rainbow  hue, 

Soft  nestles  in  a  flower, 
On  two  lips  fair, 
It  resteth  there 

As  in  a  perfumed  bower. 


256  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

'Tis  nectar  sweet, 
With  love  replete, 

Which  charms  the  passing  hours, 
Where  sweet  thoughts  stay, 
Like  bees  in  May, 

Around  the  fragrant  flowers. 

It  seals  the  word 
Which  love  has  heard 

With  sympathy  sincere, 
And  sweetens  care, 
Though  pains  be  there, 

Or  many  a  falling  tear. 

Still  let  me  know 

The  bliss  below 
Which  loving  souls  can  feel ; 

And  in  sweet  dreams 

Let  sunny  beams 
O'er  my  glad  spirits  steal. 


TO   CAROPIIELIA.  257 


TO    GAROPHELIA. 

THOUGH  pure  and  holy  be  the  bond 

Which  holds  us  by  its  tenure  fond, 

And  bids  us  twine  a  sacred  bower 

In  token  of  each  pleasant  hour, 

Yet  have  we  here  no  emblems  fair, 

With  which  our  cherished  thoughts  to  share. 

But  in  affection's  shrine  will  be 
Enduring  gems  of  constancy, 
Which  will  reflect  both  joy  and  peace 
When  cold  deceit  and  flattery  cease, 
And  shed  a  lustre  o'er  our  way, 
With  sweet  content,  from  day  to  day. 

True  friendship  sheds  a  holy  light 
In  gloomy  sorrow's  dismal  night, 
And  studs  its  curtain,  dark  and  drear, 
With  stars  —  pure  kindly  acts  —  most  dear 
To  suffering  ones,  oppressed  with  care, 
Who  oft  no  tender  feelings  share. 


258  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BANK, 

Our  happiest  moments,  pure,  serene, 
Brighten  like  flowers  a  dreary  scene  ; 
And  like  their  fragrance  may  convey 
Sweet  solace  in  a  darksome  day. 
They  calmly  cheer  the  ills  of  earth, 
Where  gloom,  with  its  sad  train,  has  birth. 

Yet  in  fond  memory  shall  abide 
Each  friendly  act,  whate'er  betide  ; 
Each  pleasing  wish,  all  proffered  aid, 
Shall  still  femain  when  health  shall  fade, 
With  kindly  influence  e'er  to  cheer 
A  lonely  heart  when  pains  are  near. 


ANOTHER    YEAR. 


259 


ANOTHER  YEAR. 

WHAT  joys  and  hopes,  what  griefs  and  fears, 
Are  numbered  with  the  fleeting  years  ! 
What  trials  crowd  the  path  of  life  ! 
What  grievous  cares,  what  busy  strife  ! 
What  tears  bedew  the  brightest  eye  ! 
What  shadows  veil  the  sunniest  sky  ! 
What  teeming  thoughts,  with  joy  attune, 
Are  born,  alas  !  to  die  too  soon ! 

As  Time's  swift  chariot  rolls  along, 
Filled  with  its  vast  and  varied  throng, 
All  eager  for  that  shining  goal 
Which  can  appease  the  longing  soul ; 
How  very  few,  alas  !  can  tell 
Of  secret  peace  which  charmeth  well, 
Or  speak  of  hopes,  by  faith  made  sure, 
As  living  truths  which  must  endure. 

How  many  a  joyous  heart  has  seen 
Bright  prospects  fail,  as,  in  a  dream, 
One  sees  some  cherished  object  fly 
Just  when  it  seemed  approaching  nigh  ! 


260  IDYLS  OF  STRAWBERRY  BA\K. 

How  many  a  sunny  spot,  once  fair, 
Now  feels  the  blight  of  sorrow  there, 
Because  its  loveliest  flower  has  fled, 
No  more  to  grace  its  native  bed  ! 

The  purest  and  the  best  depart, 
And  leave  a  gloom  within  the  heart, 
Dispelled  alone  but  by  that  power 
Which  can  illume  the  darkest  hour. 
Then  sweetest  memories  gather  fast 
Around  the  sainted  of  the  past, 
Which  bid  us  still  unwearied  view 
The  pearly  gate  they  entered  through. 

Another  year  has  rolled  away, 
Another  year  has  dawned  lo-day, 
Bright  with  the  hopes  of  joy  and  peace, 
And  crowned  with  gifts  rich  with  increase. 
May  purest  blessings  from  above, 
Distilling  from  the  Fount  of  Love, 
Fill  every  heart,  -both  rich  and  poor, 
So  that  no  soul  could  ask  for  more  ! 

And  as  the  seasons  pass  away 
Which  nearer  bring  the  perfect  day, 
Which  knows  no  pain  nor  toil  nor  care, 
Nor  shadows  dark,  nor  trials  there, 
Should  we  be  called  to  that  sweet  rest, 
\Vhich  e'er  awaits  the  truly  blest, 
May  we  with  joy  the  summons  hear, 
And  triumph  over  every  fear ! 


NEARER  HOME.  261 


NEARER   HOME. 

WHY  should  I  fear  the  ocean's  foam  ? 
Its  waves  but  bear  me  nearer  home  : 
Though  stormy  winds  my  bark  assail, 
She  still  outrides  the  boisterous  gale, 
And,  bounding  on  her  homeward  way, 
She  nears  the  harbor  day  by  day  ; 
And  soon  her  sails  will  all  be  furled 
Close  by  the  shores  of  the  better  world. 
Oh,  that  beautiful  world  ! 

Dark  billows  long  my  bark  have  tost ; 
Life's  dearest  hopes  have  all  been  lost ; 
Shut  from  the  heritage  of  light, 
My  days  are  changed  to  gloomy  night. 
Though  in  a  foreign  land  I  roam, 
My  longing  heart  still  sighs  for  home, 
And  still  I  seek  the  heavenly  shore, 
Where  waves  of  trouble  flow  no  more. 
Oh,  that  beautiful  world  ! 

Afflictions  are  the  storms  which  bear 
Our  trembling  barks  more  swiftly  there, 
And  pains  and  tears  the  boiling  foam 
Which  speeds  us  quicker,  nearer  home  ; 


262  IDYLS  Of  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

While  faith  and  hope  beam  o'er  the  way, 
And  angel  forms  around  us  stay 
To  guard  us  till  life's  ills  be  past, 
And  guide  us  to  the  port  at  last. 
Oh,  that  beautiful  world  ! 

Then  bear  me  on,  nor  let  me  fear, 
Though  untried  storms  may  yet  be  near  ; 
Let  me  but  hear  my  Father's  voice, 
Then  his  blest  will  shall  be  my  choice, 
Till  in  the  realms  of  bliss  I  prove 
His  constant,  never-failing  love, 
.  Who  leads  me  by  his  own  right  hand 
Into  the  holy  promised  land. 
Oh,  that  beautiful  world  ! 

Then  courage,  soul,  and  ne'er  despond  ! 
Behold  the  glorious  scene  beyond, 
Where  loved  ones  who  have  gone  before 
Shall  greet  us  on  the  heavenly  shore  ; 
Where  tears  shall  all  be  wiped  away, 
And  darkness  changed  to  perfect  day  ; 
Where  songs  of  triumph  e'er  shall  swell 
The  praises  of  Immanuel. 
Oh,  that  beautiful  world  ! 


LET  ME  REST.  263 


LET   ME   REST. 

* 

LET  me  rest  soon  in  peace  :  I  am  weary  of  earth, 
Where  tears  have  their  fountain,   and  sorrows   have 

birth  ; 

Let  me  cease  from  my  labors,  and  find  that  repose 
Which  in  heaven  the  earth-wearied  soul  only  knows. 

Let  me  rest  from  all  trouble  ;  for  pain  is  my  lot, 
Since  darkness  has  clouded  life's  sunniest  spot. 
In  vain  do  bright  flowers  blush  kindly  for  me  ; 
For  their  beautiful  petals  I  never  may  see. 

Let  me  rest  from  all  trial,  all  sadness  and  sin, 

To  endless  felicity  soon  enter  in, 

To  enjoy  then  forever  with  purest  delight 

Those  wonders  which  now  are  withholden  my  sight. 

Let  the  friends,  as  they  come  to  my  cold,  silent  bier, 
Leave  a  flower,  but  bring  not  a  sigh  nor  a  tear  ; 
Let  them  keep  in  fond  memory  my  poor,  humble 

name,  — 
Not  lost  to  affection,  though  dead  to  earth's  fame. 


264  IDYLS  Of  STRAWBERRY  BANK. 

I  wish  to  be  laid,  in  my  last,  silent  sleep, 
Where  in  quiet  repose  dewy  violets  weep 
Their  diamond  tears  on  each  fair  summer's  morn, 
As  a  tribute  of  love  my  lone  grave  to  adorn. 

Let  birds  fearless  come  to  my  emerald  bed, 
And  joyously  sport  o'er  the  slumbering  dead  ; 
Let  them  shatter  the  silence  with  jubilant  song, 
As  echoes  borne  earthward  from  heaven's  glad  throng. 

Let  sunshine  play  o'er  me  through  tall,  waving  trees, 
Let  anthems  be  sung  by  the  murmuring  breeze, 
Let  nature  around  me  Icrok  happy  and  gay, 
To  drive  every  vestige  of  gloom  far  away. 

I  would  leave  such  a  blessing  of  sanctified  peace 
As  would  savor  of  heaven  and  bid  sorrow  cease  ; 
I'd  smooth  the  rough  pathway  of  those  left  below, 
And  life's  sweetest  gifts  on  them  ever  bestow. 


